Policy of Truth
by CaitlynNichols
Summary: After graduating from college, Barbara Gordon arrives home to Gotham in dire need because of The Joker's chaos, and realizes the horrors that lie ahead when she eventually learns about his scarred past. Even the sanest people can become insane...
1. Chapter 1: The Man in Orange

**I was in the mood for some Batman fiction, so during my flextime I decided to jot down these ideas and in the end started writing out this fan story. I guess I've been watching too much Batman lately.**

Rated T (for violence, language, drugs and alcohol, and sex. Should be rated M. Oh well. XD)

**I do not own Batman, nor do I own the characters from the Batman comics. All of these characters are rightfully owned by DC; they were used as inspiration. The only character I can really claim is David, (and Barbara maybe since I've added more to the original character than seen in the comics. Yet, Barbara is owned by DC, and is truly not an original character made by me.)**

**Enjoy!**

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**P O L I C Y **

**O F **

**T R U T H**

**Prelude**

What if you could change the world? What would you do exactly? Would you work for the service by saving one life at a time? Would you run for governor to set the laws of obedience? Given that moment, how would it affect your life afterward? Would you ever be the same again?

Maybe for some people, a dramatic change would work out for the best, while for others it would ruin their lives forever. I know for a fact such things have happened. They would do anything to be a hero, for a hero can be the postal man that brings your mail on time, or the cop that retrieved your purse from a criminal. A hero is likely the reason why we feel safe. I know I do, especially in the city I live in now. But as I said, being a hero can ruin your life. It means that you can only be dependent on your city than your own life. Recently, our one and only hero could be labeled as our newest criminal. His dependence on his people still lives, although for now it is up for the people of this city to change things around.

When I was young, I always believed in superheroes. They were an icon to kids, and we always believed they would fight for justice. They always got rid of the bad guys by throwing them in iron cells, and there we would give them a standing oblation for their effort. We did so with our city hero. Now these days the thought of superheroes has seemed to have disappeared, maybe because we lost hope. We had a hero, until things changed all of a sudden, and now the city has lost all of its hope for good.

I have a feeling we haven't lost our hero yet, for he overlooks the city every now and then, waiting for the right moment to make his heroic move. I still have hope for him, and I know one day he will be our hero again. I hope to be there to witness this new beginning, and actually see the realistic side of the Batman that everyone seemed to love.

**Chapter I**

Being away from home for six long years is not a pleasant feeling, especially if you're a homebody type of person. Since I was young, I was raised in a tiny house in the city of Gotham, and for years I've always loved being at home. I can't really explain why — it could be because I was always comfortable at home. I didn't go out that often even when I was in high school. Living in a technical society made me decide to work with electronics. At home, I'd lock myself in my bedroom and work on electronic such as computers and other related stuff; I would take them apart, learn the parts, and reassemble it together. A few years later, I learned more about computers by using a variety of software's, those especially that were meant to be used in the political world.

My father worked for the police department in Gotham. On occasion he would bring me to work and would allow me to work on their computers. By doing so I learned from the tech-cops and all the stuff they did with electronics. They even showed me how hackers would hack a system. I developed this talent within months, and soon my father realized it would be worthwhile to have me work for the police department.

I graduated from one of the top universities in Gotham that had to do with government technical stuff. This mean I would be working with the government by searching through hidden archives on computers to help them with criminal cases. I'd also be able to hack into other hacker's computers to track them down. I seemed to have a liking to my new job, and since then on I was excited to be going home at last.

And let me tell you, I was grateful to be going home because Gotham was being wrecked with a crime rate higher than any other city in this country. Since my departure to college, Gotham was no longer the same as it used to be. This propaganda with Gotham's criminals motivated me to help my father and his department. Recently, he was promoted to commissioner of the Gotham Police Department after the death of former Commissioner Lobe. Hearing the news was appalling. Who would do such a thing? Of course — anyone. Anyone who wanted Gotham to burn.

The recent news of the terror in Gotham made me decide to head home early. Originally I was planning to fly to Maine to see a close guy friend of mine, David Dunn, when my father called me all of a sudden. The last time I saw my father was at the graduation ceremony; for a first I figured he missed me already until he started talking to me on the phone, explaining the whole ordeal with Gotham in wreck. Later on I called David about the situation, and he insisted on coming since he was an investigator. The change in plans had to be quick, which in fact it was. He flew down to Gotham while I waited to pick him up at the airport, and afterward we drove to my house.

My father was waiting on the steps of the house when we arrived. He looked like he hadn't slept for days. I really felt bad for the poor guy since my father was indeed a hard worker. In this situation it made it worse for him. He looked older than when I saw him at my graduation. The wrinkles in his face made him look ten years older, his crow's-feet was visible from far away, and his hair was a shade of pepper and salt. His glasses sat on the bridge of his nose and had a crooked look to it when I examined his face more. It was the stress that was making my dad look like this. I'd wish I could do something to help.

I pulled up to the side of the curb and shifted the car into park and turned it off. David and I stepped out to stare at my dad in awe; it felt awful just looking at my father's face for the fact that he couldn't handle the stress anymore. With a hero gone, he had to do everything for himself and for the citizens of Gotham. David popped the back door open and took out our bags with a heave and a pull. He wasn't expecting to stay this long so he had to pack extra, including my stuff made it worse for him to pull out everything. My father stood up all of a sudden to help him out, as I continued to look at him, ashamed for the wreck Gotham had caused him. I shook my head for a moment and walked over to help them out. Once I approached from behind my dad, he spun on the balls of his feet to suddenly heave me into a hug. He did miss me a lot.

"I'm glad you're back." I heard him mumble with his face covered in my auburn hair.

I hugged him even more when I heard him say that. "I can't believe all of this happened."

"It's worse than you can imagine." He said, with his hands in front of his face to push aside my hair. "I know you were planning to go to Maine, but with the chaos already I couldn't do this alone."

David placed the last bag on the ground and patted my dad's back. "I wanted to help as well, which is why I insisted to Barbara I should come."

My father glanced up and smiled at him. He fixed his glasses. "I appreciate it, David." His eyes slowly danced all over the place when he looked at me again. "You've changed, Barbara."

I smiled. "Not by much."

"I think you did." He laughed. "These six years really did make a difference in appearance."

I reached down to pick up my bag and followed David and my father into the house. He opened the door for me and I entered inside the tiny house with a change in atmosphere. It wasn't the same as it used to feel because of the stress in the family. Everyone was on their toes with this whole ordeal. My father obviously was able to prove this just by the looks on his face. David and I followed my father into the living room next door and we placed our stuff down near the coffee table as we waited for his next response. He left the room for a second and when he came back he brought my mother and my brother, James Jr. to greet us. Jr. looked really happy to see me, for he immediately ran into my arms just to hug me. At five foot six and fifteen and a half years of age he was a hell of a strong kid. I gave him a noggin like I used to do back in the days of my teenager years.

My mother approached me with a gentle smile and hugged me as well; I felt warm inside my chest. The warmth came from the love of my family, and how much they meant so much to me.

"Welcome home, sweetheart." My mother said, and released her grasp.

I smiled, and sat down on the couch with the rest of my family. Jr. crashed on the reclining chair and turned on the TV with a remote. With a _click_ sound, the TV turned on and projected a news channel. The news anchor was briefly describing about a bank robbery not far from the police department, and the plausible criminal involved. I didn't bother to pay attention to the television cast and instead listened to my father brag about the people at the department and the criminals at Arkham escaping.

"They seem to know their ways around the system." He sighed. "We've tried _everything_, and yet they know. It's like they have eyes all over the place."

I cocked my head at the information. "I would suppose it's because of Arkham's employees. Something or someone is leaking out information."

"I actually suggested that before but I wasn't sure. However, your point is true since we've had the same situation at the Gotham Police Department."

"What?"

"It's true." I heard Jr. say. "After you left, dad had problems with the cops."

"Why is that?"

My father's shrugged. "I can't really say why, but it seems you can't trust anyone these days." He stiffened when he mentioned it. "Now, you can only rely on those you really trust, which is why I trust you more than anyone at GPD."

"That's messed up." I said. "Who?"

"Ramierez is one of them."

I couldn't believe it, and I actually liked Ramierez when I used to hang out with my father at the police department. She always had something fun to do when I was round. We would play cops and robbers and pretend to drive cars with cardboard boxes. She was always a blast to hang out with. Now realizing her trust wasn't the same as it was years ago, I didn't think of her the same anymore. Why would Ramierez lie to my father and cause pain in their trust?

I shook my head. "No."

"Sadly, it is true." My father said. He shook his head as well. "But I couldn't let her go because I don't think she meant to do it on purpose. Her mother was sick and she needed an alternative to the problem."

"Who else?"

"Other cops. And for their actions they caused havoc on us. We lost so many people. For now I can say things are coming o a standstill now that we've got that psychopath behind bars." He murmured.

My eyebrows arched. "What psychopath?"

On cue, my father raised his eyes and gave me a confused look as though I had missed something important. I had been gone for six years, and yet I still didn't know all of the criminals of Gotham. I knew a few minor criminals from Arkham Asylum, but none of those considered psychopaths. From the sounds of it, it appeared this psychopath my father was referring too was no ordinary psycho.

He turned to face my mother, wondering what to say. She shrugged and turned her attention to the television. My father sighed and said, "I thought you would have known."

"Not really, Dad. I've been away for so long I don't watch the news that often."

He didn't know what to say afterward. He was speechless. Jr. though spoke for him. "Sis, if you're so curious then you should see him in person."

"Who though?"

"Uh, The Joker."

Again, the name didn't ring a bell.

My father finally spoke. "We've caught him recently and he's back in Arkham."

"Who is he?"

"Some crazy bastard, that's for sure." Jr. retorted and surfed through the channels on the television. My mother told him to watch his language as he roughly hit the buttons on the remote. He switched it to an MTV program called Punk'd. The host looked like he was high on sugar, and for some reason it amused my brother. Although I've loved my brother to death since he was born, I still didn't understand him. As a child he always was in for an adventure, and when he turned ten he was more interested in teenage stuff than the superhero hype at the time. Back then he was a superhero freak when he first met the Batman, and it changed his life. Imagine seeing your favorite icon standing right in front of you and the initial reaction you get when he actually acknowledges you. I haven't had that feeling yet, but hopefully in the future.

Our conversation went on mute after my father acknowledged the fact about this psychopath named The Joker. If I had been in Gotham long enough, I would have known who this man was. The name was even intriguing — maybe it was a cover-up to hide his identity. Who knows what this man was all about. Already, the thought of this man being considered the craziest 'bastard' in Gotham (or so my brother claims) had me on my heels. For whatever reason, I really wanted to know who this man was, in fact, I felt as though I should insist my father to tell me more. Nevertheless, the sound in my father's voice made me think it would be best to keep things at mute.

By evening, I still couldn't get the thought of The Joker out of my head. Through the night that was the one thing stuck inside me thoughts and the questions that came with it. I lay in bed pondering them through until at the point I couldn't resist to ask my father. I threw the sheets off my bed, walked to the door, and opened it and from behind my father was standing there in full uniform, including his name tag. He also was wearing a jacket, which made me wonder why he was in fall attire in the middle of the night.

I leaned against the doorframe and glanced at my father's clothing for a second time.

"I see that you're up." He said; his voice was a bit hoarse as though he were nervous about something.

I bit on the lower half of my lip. "I couldn't sleep."

"Is it because of what I told you in the living room?"

"Maybe." I mumbled. "My mind couldn't stop thinking of…this guy you mentioned. The Joker."

"Oh," he said. He fixed his glasses and looked back at me. "Well, since you are up, do you want to come down to the station?"

"Okay." I shrugged. I spun on the balls of my feet and grabbed whatever clothing was already out, thus meaning sweatpants and a navy hoodie which read GPD on the front. After, I fixed my hair by putting a hairclip in the back, and once I was done I followed my father down the stairs, through the living room and out the door we went. His cruiser was parked out back, so we walked around the tiny building and into a dark alley where it leads to his garage. With the flip of a switch the garage door opened and soon we were inside the car driving away from the security of my home towards the hell pit of Gotham. The streets we drove by were dark and gloomy. It was easy to tell hell had hit Gotham within the past six years I was gone. They were lifeless, only a few people were scattered here and there — thugs that lived off the streets, sitting by a fire pit with only the clothes on their back. I knew any city looked exactly like Gotham, but what was so different was the fear in the streets. Everyone was afraid of something: mobsters, thugs, psychopaths, and Gotham's well known criminals.

When I was young, I knew of these criminals. I heard of them every day on the news, my father mentioned them as well; they ended up in jail cells and never were heard of again. Life was secure back then, but now it appeared things had changed because of the high crime rate. The same criminals caught years ago are now back on the streets. It's terrible to know history was repeating again, we would be seeing the same trouble I saw years ago. However, Gotham's most terrifying criminals are what we're mostly afraid of. With them on the loose I bet it was hard for my father to catch them, and yet we're afraid of catching them. We don't know what'd up their sleeve, so how can we not be afraid?

In today's news, everyone's eyes were on The Joker. Whoever he was, he certainly made the citizens of Gotham frightened, in hopes that someone doesn't make the mistake of letting him off the chain again. Purposively the nonsense was new since my father told me they had just caught him.

It took us about half an hour to get to the Gotham Police Department. When we arrived the place was alive with people running about inside, trying to fix problems or making appointments, all of those things I was taught when I was a young kid. My father parked the cruiser in the parking lot reserved to employees only, and when we pulled up and got out of the car the atmosphere was loud and noisy. We walked up to the entrance and entered inside where it was all about to begin. The nonsense I was introduced to revolved around the criminals and The Joker. I glanced around in awe that so much stress was overwhelming the place.

My father walked away to greet a person nearby, which turned out to be the Mayor of Gotham.

"Evening, Comissioner Gordon." He greeted him with a hand shake.

I walked up to my father and stood beside him as the mayor introduced himself to me.

"Mayor, you remember my daughter, Barbara?"

"I do!" He said with a tone of delight. "I heard you graduated from Gotham University. Congratulations!"

"Thank you." I smiled. "It's good to be back."

"It is. I know for certain we will need your service."

"You know I'm good with that stuff." I joked, and shook his hand. "I'm more than happy to help out. My friend, David, is visiting and wishes to help as well."

The mayor shook his head and smiled at my father. "Gordon, your daughter is such a cupcake."

I blushed, and I had a feeling everyone noticed.

"You know, she isn't a kid anymore." My dad said, and wrapped his arm around my shoulder giving me a big hug.

"It is amazing how fast she grows."

"Yes." My father let go of me and cleared his throat, sounding more serious this time. "I came to do _his_ interrogation."

"I had a feeling you were going to. He just arrived from Arkham."

"Well then, let's get this show on the road." My dad said, and walked away.

I stood there uncertain what to do, especially when everyone was so busy not to direct me to help them with anything. All they were concerned about was The Joker arriving for interrogation. I supposed it would be best not to bother them, and to mind my own business; I walked to the other end of the room where my father's office was and opened the door. His room was clean, yet his desk was disheveled with paper and files concerning The Joker. My fingers glided across his desk as I skimmed my eyes across the pages of his files, each one of them labeled with information about recent events with The Joker's crimes and his recent capture. I was too curious as to wonder how this man was able to accomplish all of his tasks with limited associations with other criminals and supplies. Usually, Gotham's criminals would gang up together and destroy the town. In this case, The Joker worked alone.

I picked up a manila folder and flipped it open to read the rest of the articles. They were clipping from newspapers on The Joker, and a clipped group of papers on The Joker's information. My father had always clipped articles out of newspapers. I remember he had a huge library of scrapbooks in his office with news articles that dated to the time when the Batman first appeared. He seemed to have a liking to scrapbooks and newspapers. I chuckled a little and read the clipped papers. It briefly described The Joker, but nothing on his birthday, hometown, and family — not even his name. In each line it would read '_Unknown_' or a question mark…or nothing at all.

My mind raced with thoughts. _Who is he?_

I placed the folder down and stood there thinking about my father's ordeal with The Joker, in which a light bulb then glowed over my head. I made my way out of the office and looked around to find the interrogation room. In second I spotted the door, and opened it, and all I saw was a black room with a tinted glass plane in front of my face. I noticed my reflection right away, but within the reflection I saw an image of a table with two men seated at it. And certainly that image was nothing but reality. My father was in that room, sitting right across from the craziest man in Gotham. The Joker. I inclined closer to see the interrogation begin, although I couldn't hear what they were saying. I felt a button underneath my fingers, looked down to see it labeled as _speaker_. I lightly pushed it, and the room beamed with sound. My father's voice was calm as he talked.

"I don't know what to say." He sighed. "I've tried everything I could to make Gotham better. But because of _you_, Gotham is not the same again."

The Joker sat in his seat silently, smacking his lips. The fake grin on his face didn't move.

"We've negotiated many times and yet nothing is happening." He inclined closer with his elbows leaning off the table. "I must ask — how can you effortlessly make Gotham burn?"

I swallowed hard when I finally heard The Joker speak. "Maybe it wasn't _me_ the whole time…maybe it was _you_ people." His cuffed hands moved underneath the table. "People can be inflicted on crime very easily. It's not like…I can make them do the things that's wrong, or brainwash them — it's how they perceive it, how they react to it. For instance, when I made Harvey go mad, it wasn't just because of me, but how you reacted to Rachel's death. The lack of communication — well, maybe not communication, but _planning_ was the downfall. To see how your planning was so disorganized, your lack of planning was the cause to Rachel's death. If only you had done better then things wouldn't have looked like this. Harvey wouldn't have gone mad. But because of that, Harvey corrupted, causing his own pain to turn towards crime than reason."

"You're telling me it's the people of Gotham causing this havoc?"

"Indeed. I mean — I'm just a maniac who likes blowing things up." The Joker laughed. "But it's what happens afterward that makes you people cringe. Like I said, it's the reaction people get which makes them plan the wrong decision. They think to stop this they must kill. But in reality, it's reason. There's always a reason to _everything_."

"Including your actions?"

"Maybe." The Joker shrugged.

"How so?"

"Maybe there's a story behind everything. Maybe that story has a direct point towards reason."

My father cracked his knuckles with his fingers as he listened to The Joker's spiel. "It's hard to believe you have reasons why you cause havoc."

"Well, I do. Everyone does."

I heard my father sigh deeply, as he lunged back in his chair. "We're getting nowhere with this." He pushed himself up from his seat and started to walk away when then The Joker had more to say. When he heard his voice, he slowly turned to face him.

"It's such a shame, isn't it?"

My father's eyebrows arched. "What is?"

"That this whole ordeal was technically your fault."

My mouth dropped open. How could he say such a thing at my father's face?

"It's your fault that these people are dead!" My father exclaimed. "Because of you, we're now nowhere in this case. We have no choice what to do to make Gotham better. I've brought in my best people to do the job, and yet you're actions killed them!" Roughly he started to walk towards him with his index finger pointing at him. "I've tried everything and yet you won't admit it's your entire fault."

The Joker let out a soft chuckle. "Wasn't the point of my speech all about how people like you can be easily inflicted on crime?" He revealed his cuffed hands, gesturing as though he didn't know the answer. "I think you took this all too seriously in your head. Maybe you were too easily inflicted on these crimes — look what it's done to you."

My father's face went blank and pale.

"You don't trust anyone anymore because of your 'best people.' You saw what they really were and how such crimes affected their lives. Now, you're on the end of the rope trying to get Gotham back to normal, when for a fact Gotham will _never_ be normal. The role these people play is due to our reason as I said before."

"Like you? And how you became this?"

"I suppose, although I hate just speaking of myself."

"Cut the crap, Joker." My father said sternly. "You _know_ this is your fault."

"If it is, well…I don't know what to do for you, Commissioner. The damage done is done. It can't be reversed."

"Exactly. Particularly your court case. Once you're found guilty, your mess won't be reversed either." He grumbled. "You'll be shipped back to Arkham, confined to life in prison, and who knows if you'll be going to the big house where anything you do is never forgiven."

The Joker again hinted a smile on his grin plastered face. "Oh, dear, I'm so scared." He joked.

My father glared at him. "You _should_ be." He said.

"Oh geez. I'm so terrified I could just _kill_ for mercy."

"This isn't funny, Joker."

"It's not? Well then, I must ask. What would make it funny? Having it involve you family? Your wife maybe?"

"Joker…"

"Or your son — God forbids he's a clone of you."

"Joker…"

"Of your _daughter_?"

From the corner of his eye, I could see him glancing at me as though he knew all this time I was the one standing behind the mirror tinted glass. My mouth went dry as he continued to peel his eyes away from my father and draw his attention towards me instead, which sent signals flying through my head. Did he know this whole time I was watching them? Was he some kind of psychic? Of course, he would have known my family by now. He knew all of us, although I doubt he knows the little facts about me. This guy dealt with my father once, so he would know about the rest of our family. But me, though, would he know enough about me? Whatever the reason, it made my father question him. He glanced over as well towards my direction, although he didn't understand what The Joker was trying to tell him. He asked him weakly before being cut off by The Joker, "How did you know-"

"Barbara? You mean the girl sitting behind that glass wall—" The Joker pointed towards my direction "—listening to every word we say?" He leaned back in his chair. "What a small world after all. I could hardly recognize that she was your daughter from the photograph you have on your desk."

My father's face went blank. "When was this?"

"Uh…the day when I ruined Dent's reputation-"

"What is it, then? What are you trying to say?"

"I'm just saying, she's quite beautiful for a young woman of her age. The resemblance she has – it's very difficult to tell she's a Gordon. I mean, she definitely has your eyes, but overall I couldn't even see the similarities with you Gordon's and her."

"Well, she is my daughter if that's what you're wondering. She _is_ a Gordon."

"Of course! What I mean is…I can't see the Gordon personality in her. I see more of a softer Gordon than a rough one like you." A chuckle slipped loose from his mouth.

"For your information, my daughter does have a rough side to her like all of us do."

"Really. Well then, she's my kind of girl-"

Suddenly, a white hand flashes out, and within seconds the hand strikes across The Joker's face, making the man fall to the ground. My father restrained himself from hitting him again, and backs away to observe the damage. As I watched my father's face react in such an absurd way, The Joker rises a little when then I could hear his laughter vibrate against the brick walls of the room.

His hand reaches out to grab onto the table, and he pushes himself up to get his balance stable. "You think attacking me is your way of protecting your family?"

"I would do anything to protect them from your sick mind!"

"See, this is exactly what I meant the whole time. Gotham is being easily influenced on violence, crime…look at you, Commissioner? Do you want your family to see the monster coming out of you?"

Suddenly, my father charged at The Joker again. With his hands reaching out he grabbed onto The Joker's head and harshly smacked it against the steel table. A trail of blood seeps through a freshly new cut on The Joker's skull. Although the fighting continued, The Joker seemed to be enjoying every part of it. He continued to laugh as I watched my father in horror attack the man with all his might. It persisted with punches and blows against The Joker's chest; yet, The Joker didn't give a damn about it at all. He wanted the Commissioner to strangle him. He wanted to release the demon within him. He wanted my father to go…crazy…

I knew right away the violence was getting out of hand.

_This isn't right_, my mind told me. _Your father would _never_ do such a thing._

Even I agreed.

Probably this was part of The Joker's plan — to make my father go mad. I knew I had to do something, or else The Joker would get away with a proven point.

I darted towards the door which lead to the interrogation room where the fighting continued, and as I swung it open with both my hands, a rush a wind gushes by, a wind consisting of only the laughter of a maniac and the moans of a desperate man in need. The door slams against the brick wall as I rush in to stop my father from being violent. I placed both my hands on his jacket and yanked at it to catch his attention.

I heaved in a big gulp of air and yelled at my father to get his attention, "Dad! Stop it!"

Nothing was working to get this man out of his current state of mind. He was stuck deep into this situation whereas fighting this madman was his only way to protect himself and his family. I continued to tug at his shirt, and still nothing was helping. Quickly, I thought of another option, whereas it meant me getting into the middle of it. A bit dumb, but it would be worth it. I brushed by and pushed myself in between the two men as they strangled at each other. I wrapped my arms around him and pushed him away from The Joker.

"Dad! STOP!"

This time, my dad did listen, and he knew what he did was wrong. I made eye contact with him as he helped himself calm down.

And then The Joker had his last say.

"So…this is the Barbara Gordon you mentioned to me?"

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**And thus ends the first chapter to Policy of Truth. :)**

**I would really appreciate some feedback on the story, words of advice, encouragement, anything that would help me for future references. Thank you for reading, and I hope you continue onto the second chapter.**


	2. Chapter 2: The Sudden Escape

**And here is the second chapter to Policy of Truth, which originally was from the first chapter, but I realized then it would have been too long (and probably would have killed your braincells if you were to have read the originally LONG document).**

**And, here, we, go!**

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**Chapter II**

My mind told me not to look at him.

_If you do, you'll regret it._

It repeatedly told me to keep my eyes drawn to my father instead of the sick man who was currently behind my back, although in my mind it projected situation as to what he would be doing behind my back. A gun was image inside my head. He'd shoot me because I got involved, or kill my father and let me watch the horror transpire within my very own eyes. I had the front row seats to see this all happen.

But surprisingly, it didn't.

The room was silent for merely a minute or so, until my dad loosened his grip off of me and glared up at The Joker to answer his obscene question.

"Yes, this is the Barbara I mentioned."

The Joker seemed amused. Again, I told myself not to look. "Really?" He asked. "She's _adorable_! She's got a _feisty_ side to her I would never have imagined. She definitely has the Gordon genes in her."

"That's because she knows the difference between what's right and what's wrong."

"I agree. She's a smart cookie-"

I grounded on my teeth. "Please, do _not_ call me cookie."

The Joker laughed. "I like Barbara already."

On second thought, I should have let my father continue to beat him up.

I heard The Joker yawn and could see his silhouette in the background of him stretching his arms out. "Okay, I guess we should be getting this show on the road…" Suddenly, a silhouette of a gun appears.

My heart started pounding against my chest, as though it were going to explode inside my rib cage. Being in a state of shock, I couldn't believe this was all happening. The Joker had a gun on him. How could he carelessly bring in a gun with him to the interrogation — or how did he ever obtain a gun in the first place? I saw my father's hands shaking violently as he searched for his gun carrier attached to his belt, and when he found it he was flabbergasted. His hand slid effortlessly through the case. His gun was no longer there, and came to realize that the gun The Joker was holding onto was _his_. A lump formed in my throat as I saw the gun's silhouette come closer to my head.

My teeth clenched together when I felt the gun's tip touch my skin, cold to the touch. I winced when I heard The Joker's chuckle.

"…I wish I could have stayed longer, but I do have to be going like all of us crazy people have to." The gun caressed against the back of my neck.

My father murmured, "Please take that gun off my daughter."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I've had the gun pointing at little Barbara." He adjusted the gun, making it tilt towards the lower part of my head.

I started to shake. "Dad…"

"Get that gun away from my daughter." My father said sternly, keeping his cool. He squeezed me in his grasp as he tried to persuade The Joker to remove his gun away from me.

The Joker didn't seem to care, because this time he moved the gun up a bit more towards the middle. I felt his breath on my neck; the warmth caressed the skin as it sent shivers down my spine, and raised the hairs on the back of my neck. Goosebumps formed all over my arms, and the butterflies in my stomach fluttered around even more making my stomach feel irritated. In this kind of situation, you'd wish you had someone like a cop to defend you from getting hurt. In our current situation, my father was defenseless, and he really couldn't do anything to defend me with his might. No one else in the department knew what was going on at the moment — God, I wish we had an easy button to get out of our current predicament.

The Joker glared at my father as he smacked his lips together. "If you really care about your daughter's life…then you'd let me go."

My mouth wanted to drop, but I didn't force myself to do so.

_He can't let him go. He'll wreck Gotham for good!_ I wanted to tell my father not to, and to prove what he would do if he were on the loose. Already, this was a point brought up. He would be crazy if he would let The Joker do this thing by walking out of the building as though nothing had just happened, and then blow things up for his enjoyment. Jr. was right — The Joker was indeed a sick bastard.

I clung on to my father, hoping he would do something at least to keep me out of harm's way. And then, I made the move to look back. There I saw was a man, a psychopath. Earlier before I was told this man wore makeup as a way to hide his identity — or as war paint to scare the people away. He was not wearing makeup this time, yet, the expression on his face frightened me. His eyes were a deep brown, a bit blood shot but not a lot; his brownish green tinted hair was curly and was long that it reached at the tip of his earlobe. In the pictures I've seen of him before his hair was longer, probably because Arkham Asylum cuts their hair like they do at military camps. But the one thing that had attracted to me the most was the scars on his face. Two long scars curled at the tips in the formation of a huge grin.

Disgusting. Plastering a fake grin on his face does not make him look cool to the girls. I shook my head mentally and brought my attention back the problem my dad and I were facing.

"What do you want me to do?" My father groaned. "There are cameras all over the place — they'll see you get out of here."

The Joker licked on his bottom lip. "Do you think I'm dumb enough to not know that?" He hissed. He lowered his gun and aimed it at my dad. "But you do know an alternative way out of here, don't you?"

My father sighed. "I do."

"Then you and your daughter will lead me out of this God forsaken place, and I'll let this teensy problem slip by."

He father shook his head. "Fine." He loosened his grip from me and led The Joker and me out of the room, where we went down a hallway that separated us from the other side of the department towards the western end where the cruisers and other cars parked out back. He opened the door and revealed a huge parking lot where it was vacant. I was surprised to see there weren't any cameras around — I expected there would have been a few scattered about in the parking lot, for God knows what kind of activity goes around here.

The Joker slipped past us, still holding onto his gun; he scanned the place put quickly just in case my father was lying to him and that there weren't any hidden crews around. To his satisfaction, it was just an empty parking lot. No cameras, no people excluding my dad and me. No hidden traps — nothing. He spun on his heels to face up with the gun aiming low this time.

"What a surprise…" He mumbled. "I should be thanking you for doing this — although I have a feeling you will strangle me for doing so." He laughed, and the gun, still aiming at us bounced up and down.

"Just get the hell out of here and leave us alone." My dad said. "In fact, _leave_ Gotham for Christ's sake."

"Aw, really? I was having fun playing around with Gotham's mind, but I guess the old man doesn't want me around." He shrugged, and frowned when he knew for a fact my father and the rest of Gotham didn't want him around anymore. Nobody wanted to see the face of The Joker again, not after what he had done. There are no second chances in life; The Joker shouldn't even have chances at all particularly this one.

Suddenly, my ears perked up to a _click_ sound, and realized he had adjusted his gun with fresh bullets ready to be shot. He levered it above his shoulder height "What makes you think I would leave Gotham so soon when the fun hasn't even begun?"

My dad kept his cool since he knew the answer already.

"I think you've had your fun already."

"Naw, I think their needs to me more…more noise…more explosions…more…something." The Joker chuckled, "If I'm going to accede Gotham's current character, I might as well add more to it."

"The more you add on, the more Gotham will hate you, and the more enemies you'll get."

"Of course I will have enemies like you for instance." He shrugged at my dad with his right shoulder. "I'll have my enemies close as they always say, 'Keep your friends close, but your enemies' closer.' I'll have them so close that that'll get to the point that they can't _stand_ me anymore. Probably then they'll realize chaos is a natural phenomena, one that's never ending."

Chaos is a natural phenomena, but one that is never ending, like a violent disease that can't be cured. For certain, The Joker was a disease that could never be cured. He was the disease that spread over Gotham within seconds like a viral virus, one that is airborne and is as deadly as the black plague. He can quickly get into people's minds that for the victim it would be too late to get the treatment they need. For me though, I haven't gotten that virus like my family did, but I can't say that I'm fully immune to the deadly disease so the likelihood of _not_ getting it was slim.

The Joker grimaced at my dad. "This is why Gotham's so God damn mindless. They can easily be inflicted by corruption that they can turn into the inner monster they would have never imagined." I hugged my father tighter when The Joker shot his eyes at me.

"Why?" I asked meekly, that of a whisper.

He cocked his eyebrows towards my heretical response.

"Why are you doing this?"

He grinned slightly. "Obviously, to prove a _point_, Miss Gordon." He yawned again. "Well — I should be going."

Suddenly, his arm extended outward as his hand turned his gun around with the butt of it sticking out. The butt of the gun collided at my father's forehead. There was a loud crack as though a skull was broken open. I covered my mouth preventing myself from screaming to the tops of my lungs when I saw my father collapse to the ground with blood smeared on his forehead. I bent down next to him to catch him from hitting his head against the paved floor, and when I did I was able to see how hard The Joker had hit him with the gun. There was a good size of a cut on his forehead, probably a good two inches or so, the bleeding wasn't as dramatic as I expected although it was messy when I pushed his hair away to examine it.

"Dad?" I mumbled when I noticed he was finally moving a little. His breathing was back to normal after being taken aback by the sudden accident.

I glanced back up to see The Joker nowhere in sight.

***

There was a sudden chill in the emergency room while I was waiting for my father to come out after getting stitches on his forehead from the…suppose accident. It was a strange feeling as though a virus was cursed upon us — the same virus I mentioned earlier. Although I beckon it was a virus, but a deadly disease, one that can't be cured. This disease had shaken us all to bits after The Joker got away; seeing this from my point of view The Joker had planned to escape from the Gotham police for a long time since being shipped to Arkham for a second time.

I admit, The Joker was smart, yet, I try not to think of him that way.

I sat in the waiting room for a few house until my father walked out of the emergency room with two new stitches on his forehead. He looked better than he originally did, and smiled when I walked up to him and hugged him to see he was going to be fine.

"How was the stitching?" I joked.

"It wasn't that bad and they said the cut wasn't deep at all. They said it should heel within the next two weeks."

I smiled as he hugged me tighter.

"Don't tell your mother about The Joker escaping."

"I won't." I promised, although I was more concerned about my mother reaction towards the cut on his forehead. She would have guessed something was up at the station. "What will you tell her then how you got the cut?"

"I've got a pretty good idea what to say to her." He chuckled.

"To me, it sounds like you've got a _nasty_ reason."

"You need to make things nasty to slide by problems like ours." He explained as we walked out of the hospital with our arms wrapped around each other's shoulder, like a father and daughter bond.

One of my father's co workers was nice enough to drop off the cruiser at the hospital so we wouldn't have to worry about getting a drive to the station to pick it up there. As we got inside, we heard the radio going off about The Joker's escape from the police station. Those broadcasted calls wanted to make us barf our guts out; as if we wanted to hear more about The Joker at this time…

We arrived at our house in minutes and noticed that the lights were still on inside even if we expected our family to be asleep already. As we got inside, my mother was watching the TV, her eyes the size of two golf balls as she watched the news about The Joker's escape. I swallowed hard. _The news does get out easily around here_, I thought. My mom turned in her place and saw us walk in, my father eyeing the TV with his jaw dropping to the ground.

"Jesus," He groaned. "Things these days get worse by the second." He placed his hand on his forehead as though his cut was stringing.

My mother did notice the cut right away, and she hurriedly got up to see it.

"What happened?"

"Um…" My father paused for a moment to look at me.

I glanced back at my father, hoping he _did_ have an excuse to tell her.

"I got into a fight with one of the inmates at work." He lied. "We tried to restrain him."

"My God. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I am. I went to the emergency room to clean it up. I'll be fine" He hesitated to explain to her what really happened, so he pretended as though everything will be okay — even thought the news just announce The Joker's escape.

My mother sighed a little, and slid past my dad to lock the front door. "I don't know if you just heard, but The Joker is on the loose again."

"I heard all right." He groaned again.

I yawned and let my grip loose around my father's shoulders. "I'm going to hit the bunk for tonight." I covered my mouth from yawning and slipped up the stairs to get to my bedroom. My father reach to the bottom step with his hand on the railing; he mumbled softly, "Sleep tight, Kiddo." He let go of the railing and walked towards my mother, who then I noticed turned off the TV and faced him with her sudden expression. I stopped to see what they would do next.

"What are we going to do?" My mother mopped.

"About The Joker?"

"Yes."

"As far as he isn't near our place, and that all the windows and doors are locked, we should be fine."

My mother's lips fumbled as she tried to make words come out, words that would be comprehensive to understand. "I know how much you do to protect us. We know what it's like, and we know Barbara wants to help us…but she doesn't know what it's like to face a madman like The Joker." She murmured. "Jim, I'm worried she'll get hurt if she tries to fight this man off."

"I'm scared as well, but she's an adult now. She isn't the young little kid she was before she graduated from college." He tried to keep his cover from telling my mother that I had already met The Joker face to face, and yes, I found it frightening as well.

I knelt down and hid behind the stair railing as I listened to their conversation carefully, with my chest and face pressed against the bars of the stairwell. I tried to keep my breathing down so that they couldn't hear me.

"What about David, though? Are you going to let him fight The Joker off?"

"David has his own right to do whatever he wants — I think lil' Barbara should have that right as well."

"Jim, you don't realize how worried I am for our kids. I mean — Jr. knows the risks of standing up against The Joker, which is why he won't even go near him after what had happened before." She said, and wiped away a tear that was leaked out from her eye earlier. "But David and Barbara have never seen what this man can do. I think we need to tell them the truth?"

"What should we tell them, though?" My dad asked.

"We have to tell them to leave Gotham, if they want to feel safe."

I couldn't believe it. My own mother wanted me to leave Gotham because she feared The Joker might harm me and David. What a joke! One of the many reasons why I came back to Gotham after graduating was so I could help my dad and the Gotham Police Department to help remove people like The Joker off the streets for good. And here, she wants me to get out of Gotham so that I wouldn't put myself in harm's way, even with the skills I have to break through computer and any other electronic device. A lump formed in the back of my throat.

I couldn't leave Gotham. I couldn't before whenever I went to college. I can't now, not when The Joker was out on the streets to make Gotham shatter to pieces like a broken mirror when you stare at it too long, or when you purposely throw the mirror on the ground — that's something The Joker would do — any damage done could hurt Gotham badly.

I watched as my father refused to take the information seriously. Knowing my father well enough, I knew he was on my side of the situation. He wanted me to help since the beginning when I arrived to Gotham. He'd be hurt if he were to force me to leave in the end.

"I don't know, Barb." He mumbled, "If Barbara leaves, we won't have the knowledge to hack into electronic devices that may relate to The Joker. She knows all of that stuff, which is why I wanted her to come back and work for us. If she helps us, we may know more information about The Joker." He rubbed the back of his neck roughly.

I saw my mother sigh in disapproval. "I can't, Jim. I can't have her here when we're likely of getting hurt." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "It may be for the best of the both of us, of we want our daughter safe."

That mirror I had mentioned a while ago shattered on me already.

"I'll see what I can do. But I can't guarantee Barbara will leave easily." He picked up his coat he let on the coat hanger and slipped both his arms into the sleeves. "I'm going to head back to the station and see what I can do for now." He opened the front door, and shut it behind him where I could see the reaction on his face about having me leave Gotham for good. It shut tight with a _click_, and my mother turned to face the vacant room. In her eyes, I could tell she still doubt about her idea, if it were good enough to have me protected by leaving Gotham, or to listen to my father's advice as to why it was best for me to stay.

I slowly crept up until I felt a hand touch the niche of my back. I spun on the balls of my heels, startled, and sighed when I saw David behind me.

"Is everything okay?" He asked me.

I shook my head. "My mom wants us to leave Gotham."

"Why?"

"So we wouldn't be harmed by The Joker." I groaned. I was pissed off because of it. "He just escaped."

He rolled his eyes. "Jesus, Barbara. And you wanted to stop this guy?"

My mouth dropped. David, the one guy who seemed to understand me since we both met at college, agrees with my mother that we should leave Gotham because of The Joker? I was appalled that he took sides with my mother. I bit my lip, and mused about my problem.

"Maybe we should." David said. "I wouldn't want you hurt."

"I understand, but my dad needs help. Gotham needs help."

"Gotham is doing its best to help itself." He placed his hands on my shoulder to have him face me. "Whether the Batman does help or not, he will always be there by Gotham's side."

I glared at him. "He hasn't for a while, because Gotham despises him."

"What makes you think of that?"

"My dad told me he's been hiding for the past month because of the previous chaos The Joker caused."

He groaned. "Barbara, you can't be serious that you want to fight this Joker guy off."

"I am." I said. "Maybe this is Batman's only hope to have Gotham believe in him, by serving justice for the people of Gotham like he did for us. That way, he'll know we're serious about having him back."

I flagged past him and lifted the hood of my sweatshirt up to cover my head; David turned slightly to see him. "By all means, if this is what you want to do, then I'm fine with that. I'm not trying to be rude or anything — I'm just thinking of your safety as well."

"I know you're not being rude about it." I said as David walks past my room, without looking back at me again.

I slowly closed the door, and flopped onto my bed with my feet dangling in the air. My breathing subsides as I start to feel myself go into unconsciousness, slipping away into a deep sleep within seconds. For most of the night I tossed and turned as my mind brought back the memories of The Joker escaping from the police department. I kept seeing the image of a man with a scarred grin that was as wide as a jack-o-lantern's smile. The horror of seeing the man without his makeup, his smile, just everything about the man shook me from head to toe.

There was a loud _bang_, in which it rudely woke me up from my deep sleep. The scary thing about it was that it came from my room, and that too had me on my toes at an instant when it woke me up. I jumped out of bed with my bed sheets flying all over; the room went quiet again. The window was slightly open, enough for a brisk wind to slip through the opening. Enough for someone to come in, and shut it as though nothing had happened. For what was happening already I didn't take second changes to believe this was nothing. My guts told me someone had gone through my window, and was currently residing in my bedroom by hiding anywhere I would have looked over by now. Quickly I scanned the room out for purposing hiding spots the intruder might be hiding; I stomped over towards my closet and roughly flung it open. It was empty, just a bunch of clothes hanging on individual wire hangers.

For whatever the reason, I landed on my knees and scuttled to my bed to check underneath as though I were some kind of watch dog. Nothing was there either when I flipped over the cotton ruffles of the bed sheets. I sighed. Probably it was my imagination. Then again, I could be wrong.

There was another noise coming from the hallway, and my mind told me to go after the noise, which I did without hesitation. I opened my door and looked at both ends of the hallway. It was vacant, only my brother's bedroom door was open which I suspected only occupied my brother. Still, I wasn't sure so I decided to check his bedroom out. I tip toed towards my brother's bedroom and peeked inside — as I expected, my brother was in his bed snoring loudly, and Davis was sound asleep on the spare twin bed with his arms out like the wings of a bald eagle. I sighed in relief.

That relief soon ended when I heard the noise again, this time coming from downstairs.

I stepped out, looked around, and carefully walked down the stairs without making a noise; I was on the last step when the noise got louder, and this time I was able to comprehend what it sounded like. It was the sound of someone's footsteps. It could have been my father, who probably had just come home from work, but these footsteps didn't sound very friendly, and I knew my father didn't have noisy footsteps.

_There is an intruder!_ My mind yelled.

I hid behind the stairwell as a shadow suddenly appeared out of the blue. I cuddled up into a ball as the shadow sulked by, my head in between my knees, my feet trembling violently. From the corner of my eyes the shadow grew larger as it appeared to be getting closer towards the kitchen, which by the way was right in front of my view. Carefully I pushed myself father towards the end where only a blanket of darkness covered half of the stairwell, and once I reached that end I tried to keep myself from over reacting and preventing myself from making any noise. I stopped breathing when the shadow transformed into a human image.

That human image was that of The Joker himself.

_How the hell did he know my parents live here_? I thought out loud.

Hell, I was scared out of my mind, but what even scared me the most was that The Joker was in his _usual_ attire my father once described to me: the blue honeycomb pattern shirt, the green vest, his unusual purple pants — which by the way did not look good on him. Fashion-istas say stripes slim out a person's image. His did not. — and his dark violet coat that was smeared with dirt and _blood_. And not to even forget, his makeup, which consisted of a white foundation with two black shadows surrounding his eyes, and the red outlining his scarred smile.

I wanted to puke.

_This guy likes this image?_ I wondered. _What a creep!_

Luckily, The Joker didn't notice me behind the stairwell; he just strolled towards the kitchen silent as a mouse. Who knows what he's got in stores for us…Once he disappeared, I hurriedly got up and darted for my parent's bedroom right across from the living room. Inside, my mother was sound asleep — she doesn't even know what's happening — from underneath the bed a bag the size of a laptop computer was peeking out, the corner of it just visible to the naked eye. I reached down to pull the bag out from underneath (Since I was five years old, my parents have always taught me never to touch the bag under my parent's bed. There's a precise reason why they've restricted entrance to their room.) I tenderly zipped the bag open and pulled out a heavy object that nearly toppled me over when I picked it up and cradled it against my chest. A gun. It was cold to the touch, with specks of dust here and there. My dad hadn't used it in a while…until now.

I cradled it close as I maneuvered out of my parent's bedroom without disturbing my mother, and once I got out I levered the gun up near my shoulder and snapped the safety button off. The _click_ was loud enough for my mother to hear; even The Joker could have heard it from the kitchen. The noise made me swallow hard.

_This thing better work_, I mused.

I maneuvered towards the kitchen where I last saw The Joker, my arms shout out so that the gun was father away from my chest, and my feet silently creep on the surface of the linoleum tiled floor. I stopped at one point to hide behind the wall, to make sure The Joker hadn't seen me coming; I cocked my head and scanned the kitchen out. It was silent, which made my hands sweat. My grip on the gun nearly slipped until I told myself to calm down. I restrained myself and looked back again, not noticing The Joker's footsteps behind me.

"Miss Gordon!"

Oh shit.

Immediately, I was shaken out of my mind to the sudden realization that The Joker was standing right next to me. I spun on the balls of my heels and aimed the gun at The Joker's head; a crooked smile was plastered on his face when he reached out to grab the gun from my hands.

"You should know you should never play with guns." He chuckled. "Didn't your father teach you that?"

I yanked at my gun to release it from his grasp. He held onto it tight, and each time I yanked at it he continued to laugh.

"For your information," I grimaced at him, "my father taught me how to use a gun when I was young, and has since allowed me to use it whenever I need to defend myself."

"I see…and this is the way you treat an intruder by aiming it at their head?" He asked me. He licked his bottom lip.

I groaned. "How else am I supposed to defend myself?"

"Might I suggest the _physical_ technique?"

I didn't even notice his hand was close to my face. The only thing I felt was the back of his hand against my cheek, and seconds later I find myself face first on the ground. My face was stinging, particularly in the area where he had hit me so hard. It felt as though a thousand bees had strung my face all at once. The pain was awful! It was tender to the touch, poking it with my index finger made it worse. I groaned as my face stung with needles poking at the side of my cheek where his hand hit.

The Joker was in a fit of laughter.

"See? The technique works."

My teeth clenched together, and I hurriedly pushed myself up to reach out and grab The Joker by his collar; he had plans as well, meaning I was in more deep shit than ever. His hands wrapped around my arms and gripped onto them tight, and then with all his might he threw me against the front door. The door shattered to bits with glasses falling everywhere like raindrops.

I blacked out for a second and found myself outside on the porch steps where a broken door was seen in view. The glass was completely shattered as though a bomb went off. The stinging in my face was now in my arms, all over bits of glass pieces stuck out like needles, blood was trickling out of the cuts and flowed down in tiny rivers of blood. One of the shards of glass was huge, and it was cut deep into my left arm, making my arm throb in pain. I bit on my tongue as the pain was becoming more excruciating than ever.

I glanced back up to see The Joker not far from me, carelessly walking out the door as though nothing had happened. I tried to help myself to get away by pushing my feet against the floor; I managed to get up without falling on my bottom while I pulled out the piece of glass that was causing so much bleeding and pain. I threw it away from behind, and right then and there I felt something hit my chest, making me topple to the ground and hitting my head against the pavement. I landed on my back with The Joker on top of me with his knees dug into my gut. And there I saw his _favorable_ knife; it popped out like a switchblade and it shinned right into my eyes. His laughter was unbearable.

And then, the whole world went black around me as though a black veil had shielded my eyes from the reality of this outcome. It lasted only seconds and then the darkness went away when I blinked, The Joker was no longer on top of me. In fact, I didn't even feel him move. Baffled, I rose a little and shook my head; the pain was throbbing against my skull like a balloon ready to explode. I rubbed my forehead as the throbbing was starting to slow down, and eventually I didn't feel anything at all.

I got up and glanced around. The Joker was nowhere in sight not a single living thing on the streets of Gotham. Just me. It was abnormally quiet, which sent chills down my spine as if someone was standing right behind me but was invisible.

_Probably this is all a dream, _my mind proposed.

I shook my head again, and headed towards the stairs covered in grains of glass the size of pebbles and rain dews. I sighed, and looked over my shoulder, still, nothing was there as I made my way inside.

From the corner of my eye, though, far way into the horizon of Gotham's glowing cityscape, I saw a black cape flagging in the wind.

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**It was very hard to find a way to end this chapter, because there was so much going on I wanted to find a perfect ending that would have meaning to what the next chapter would be about. Again, I would love feedback about the chapter/story, words of advice, and so forth. You know the drill. XD**

**I am looking forward to writing the next chapter! Mmm, maybe you'll see Batman! (Da na na na, Da na na na, BATMAN!)**


	3. Chapter 3: Trouble at Gotham High

**Yes! The third chapter to Policy of Truth! I know you've all been waiting for it, so don't wait any longer…or else The Joker might do something to you. XD**

**Keep in mind for the first part of the chapter, it is in 3****rd**** person from Batman's point of view (Yes, I did say you would see Batman eventually.)**

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**Chapter III**

For the first time in his life, Bruce was completely outraged. It wasn't the common outrage a person might get when something goes bad in this kind of scenario when he thought all was well, it had turned the tables on him. It flipped the whole scenario around, exactly the reason why he was outraged in the first place.

He wanted to punch something something hard that would leave a dent in it. He wanted to hit The Joker spot on in the face. But knowing his morals and rules he couldn't do such a thing, especially since the last time when he released his anger on him it left him wondering if he had gone over the line. The exact point The Joker was trying to prove to him. He could make a person cross that line without evening noticing

The Joker knew how to get underneath the skins of people, particularly his.

Minutes ago, Bruce had saved the life of one of the Gordon's kids. And here he was now, dangling the criminal in his bare hands as though he had caught something poisonous; his main cause was to stop the madness from crossing over the line, for it was inflicting the Gordon's as it did to much of Gotham he couldn't let any more come out of the bag or else hell would have been on the streets.

Whatever The Joker's intention was to do with one of the Gordon's, Bruce just couldn't let it happen.

Far above on an apartment roof, not far from the Gordon's residence, Bruce kept a hold of the mad man with his black-gloved hands, his grip was tight on The Joker's emerald green vest as he continued to drag the man up after fetching him earlier. He heaved The Joker up to meet eye to eye with him; he could feel one of his eyes twitch violently due in part of his rage, his lips fumbled and his breathing went heavy.

He glared into the eyes of The Joker, who showed no fear on his face.

The Joker made a toothy grin at him. "You know, I could use a little ease off the vest. It's choking me-"

"What do you think you are doing?" He exclaimed; his throat was hoarse as he spoke as a way to hide his real voice.

"What do _you_ think?" The Joker asked him, arching his eyebrow.

Bruce didn't answer.

"I'm just taking a nice stroll through the town of Gotham City-"

"You call beating a woman up a stroll through the park?"

"For your information," The Joker pointed out, "I was _not_ beating up the Miss Gordon. I was only greeting her with my usual _signature_ greet."

There was a sudden shock when Bruce had heard the person's name. _It can't be…?_ Was all that Bruce was able to project inside his mind. The only misses he knew was the daughter of James Gordon, and that woman was Barbara, Babs for whom he used to call her. He didn't know Barbara was coming back to Gotham City, and especially the new chaos that was going about. She wouldn't have known that unless her father had told her.

Bruce could feel his hands shake as he realized he had a new situation he had to deal with.

"Miss Gordon?" He murmured.

"Duh, where have you been for the past few months? You worked close with the Commissioner or, you _used_ to wouldn't you have known he had a daughter by now?"

He shook his head. "I have been aware of that for a very long time."

"Well, so have I. You sound as though you're dumbstruck-"

"Whatever you do, get away from the Gordon's."

The Joker looked at him, his head was slanted at an angle. "And _why_?"

"I don't ant this mess to start up again like last time you fooled Dent's mind and the city cops."

Without warn, The Joker laughed in his face. "My plan is to corrupt the Gordon, knowing how close they work with the Gotham Police Department. They're a family of cops all together." He flailed out his hands in the air.

"You're going to rip this city and half."

"And that's how I like it. Two different sides to this city: unethical and righteousness as two different things in one city. It makes sense to Gotham's current character. These two things are what tear the city apart, and of course, that's just by ripping it with my hands." His tongue glided across his lower scarred lip, and withdrawing his attention away from Bruce, he glanced over to the house where the Gordon's lived. "However, having a family like the Gordon's for instance, they can easily tear this city apart like I can. As I once said before, it's that _push_ that makes them teeter off the edge of righteousness."

"You aren't going to mess with the Gordon's minds!" Bruce wrapped his grip tighter on The Joker's vest.

"Oh yeah?" The Joker asked him. "Test me. See if I can prove myself worthy…knowing that I am right all the time. I'll make Gotham burn by having this family being the precise reason why we don't have the ethical reasoning as we used to."

And with that, The Joker's laughter shook the city to life. Without caution, a foot was seen extending out towards Bruce; it hit him right on in the gut, making Bruce stumble backwards towards the ledge of the roof.

And then, everything blacked out.

For what felt like seconds, Bruce could only see sheer darkness covering him. It took him a while to regain his vision, and once so he rubbed the back of his head after the impact of hitting the ground hard. He turned to the side as his gut flipped flop inside him, an awful taste of bile was slowly creeping up his throat; the rest of his body was weak from falling, one single touch had hurt him all over.

He rose up, and glimpse around his surroundings. The Joker was nowhere in sight.

_Damn it!_ Bruce thought aloud.

What was worse, with him loose, he was capable of doing anything to the Gordon's. This worried Bruce to bits. He's a man of his word obviously, who wouldn't keep their promise?

**:: :: ::**

The rest of the night felt like hell. That was quite obvious, because, A) I was attacked by a freaking psychopath who for some reason seemed to know where my parents lived; and B) the cuts I got from the attack were now more excruciating than ever. Oh, the price you pay when you decide to fight off a mad man…

After a long restless night, I was woken up by a soft sound that was awfully familiar to Jr.'s voice. Surely enough, Jr. was standing beside my bed with his hands fiddling with my alarm clock radio; he was adjusting the current station to get rid of the static coming from the tiny speakers and once he did he turned up the volume, loud enough for my ears to right. I groaned, as the ringing in my ear grew louder.

"What are you doing?" I asked him.

He was taken aback by my harsh response, but also because he didn't realize I had just woken up. He shook himself back to reality and positioned the radio close enough to him whereas it reached the end of the bedside table, just enough for it to topple over if he had pulled it even more. He knelt down this time instead of hovering above me, and relaxed his arms on the smooth top of my bedside table.

He shot his eyes at me. "They were just talking about The Joker on the news. They assume he was near our house last night because somebody saw him attacking a person." He listened carefully to the broadcasted news. "They said Batman's back."

"He is?"

"Yeah. He was there last night he probably stopped The Joker before things got out of hand." His hand went for the snooze button, and lightly he pressed it with his index finger.

Of course, at a time like this when Gotham needed him most, Batman decided to come out from underneath the shadows and to make do with Gotham's criminals, particularly The Joker at this time when he's loose on the streets. Last night was definitely a night that I will never forget in one night I was able to meet The Joker face to face in person. Not once, but _twice_. And hell, both encounters were frightening. I mean he broke into our house wouldn't you be scared out of your mind? And yet, even though my brother has heard the news already, he still doesn't know the whole story.

In this kind of scenario, the truth can never be hold. Jr. should never know what happened. If he did find out, he would go whining to dad that The Joker was in our house last night, and that he had attacked me. He can't know the truth. Never.

I pushed away the bed sheets and slowly rose from my bed. My body continued to ache from last night's event. The kinks in my back were like knots in a robe, ones that can't easily be untied. With my arm extended out I tried to relieve the kinks in my back by stretching out my muscles, which barely did any good and eventually the pain worsened. My whole body was sore from head to toe. There were a few bruises on my arms; then again, the purple color was faint enough that nobody would ever know I was hardly beaten up by a maniac in a purple suit.

I mentally stuck my tongue out at the thought and eyes Jr. for a second as he changed the station; for a split second my attention was interrupted by a sound of a hammer hitting what sounded like wood. "What's dad doing?"

"Oh, some asshole decided to throw rocks at our door and broke the glass. He's adding a new mosaic glass piece to the door."

Wow. And yet he doesn't even know it was me who broke the glass.

As the bed sheets fell off, my brother's face suddenly had changed, as though he saw something disgusting. He pointed to my arm, the one that had a huge gash in it.

"Jesus, what did you do?"

"Watch you language, mister." I reminded him.

He placed his hand near his chin, pretending he was hiding his words from coming out of his mouth. "Sorry. What happened to your arm, though?"

My mouth went dry.

_Think of something quick_, my brain told me. _Your brother is dumb enough to believe anything._

_But what exactly? _I yelled back.

"I had a little accident."

He eyed me, and his eyebrow line lifted. "Like what?"

"I-I dropped a plate and I accidentally cut myself while I was cleaning up."

There came no response from him until I had to physically make him believe me. I showed him the gash wound, which was dry and stiff by now. He couldn't keep his eyes off that thing even when I was trying to get his attention, and when I did he shook his head and answered, "Wow."

That was it. Just, _wow_. The response I wanted.

He stood up and left my room with the same expression on his face. It gave me enough time to get dress quickly before he would pop back into my room and ask me a whole bunch of questions just like the old days when we were little. He'd walk into my room unexpectedly and ask me a ridiculous amount of questions; some of them were even awkward that I had trouble answering them. He once asked me when he was eight, "Where do babies come from?" And I couldn't take it. So, I had to tell him the stork story, which by the way he has long believed the stork story to be all faked since he was six years old.

I pulled out a pair of denim jeans from my closet, a black tank top and a long sleeved white shirt with a v-cut from my bureau and tugged them on with both my weak arms. After much hard work with putting my arms into each sleeve and my feet into each legging putting on clothes is not an easy task when you're in pain I fixed up my hair by pulling it up into a messy bun and fixed a few strands that were in my face, and on cue my brother came entering the room with a newspaper in his hands. David, tagging behind Jr. also came in, still in his briefs and grey t-shirt. His eyes were droopy as if he was lacking sleep.

I laughed as David plopped onto my bed and snuggled up with the disheveled blankets I had thrown onto the floor. "You're not a morning person."

He groaned, cuddling in a huge ball with the sheets surrounding him like a cocoon.

"I've never been a morning person." The sheets muffled his words out, but I could easily hear him begin to snore. Jr. probably woke him up. Poor guy.

Jr. handed me the newspaper, which read on the front: _Gotham in Chaos, Again._

So it was, pun indeed.

"Here's the latest they have on The Joker." He said, and jumped on the bed to sit next to Dave, who then abruptly woke up due to the shift in movement from the bed.

I carefully scanned the article out and took note of the bits of information the source provided. It was nothing major, but it was good to keep the facts in mind for future references. Most of it explained about last night's event when The Joker escaped from interrogation at the Gotham Police Department and Crime's Unit. It didn't really specify on the source provide by someone who had claimed they say The Joker last night on our streets. It could have been a rumor, but the truth was he was there last night, attacking me.

I wondered, though, out of all the people in Gotham whom he could be killing or blowing up why he decided to throw his pointed dart at me instead of at the other red targets floating about. One reasonable explanation I came up with was because of my dad. I was there to witness the interrogation, and the escape; maybe he was afraid I would spread the news around. Who knows why he attacked me instead of my dad, for originally his plan was to corrupt my dad's sense of being and reasoning; he could have attacked him then and let my dad corrupt again.

I threw the newspaper back at Jr., and shrugged.

"This guy is nuts."

I heard David muffling through the sheets. "Do we really have to talk about him?"

"David, he's out on the streets already causing trouble. You expect me to sit her and do nothing? I came to Gotham so that I can fix Gotham."

"It's going to be one hell of a job for you." He said, and threw the sheets back on top of him.

I glanced at him concerned as to why he seemed so out of it.

"What is your problem today?"

He stiffened, and poked his head out from an opening in between the sheets. "I've been thinking last night what you said to me…about your mother wanting us to leave."

Jr's ears perked up. "Mom wants you to leave?"

"From the sounds of it, she thinks we're in great danger."

"Hell, I've been the one in great danger. You guys don't even know what this guy is like."

If only he knew…if only he knew what happened last night…

"I think it's crazy mom wants us to leave." I turned to Jr. "What do you think, Jr.?"

He slanted his head at an angle. "Honestly, you're the type of person who would do anything to help. If you want to help dad get this bastard off the streets, then it's your choice. I'm not you conscious, so I have no idea how you see things. It's _your_ decision."

He was right. It's my decision to decide whether I help Gotham or not; nobody else can't have their say in my decision making, because it is all up to me to decide what's best for Gotham and for myself. And I wanted to help, no matter what my mother or my parents say. For a moment, the room went quiet. David fell back asleep from the looks of it, Jr. continued to glance at me because of the uncertainty he had about me and David leaving Gotham — he didn't want us to leave, prior to the fact we were here to protect the family and to help them get out of this mess. He hated living life as it was already, and he couldn't handle any more of it. Honestly, I would do anything for my brother, knowing him well enough to ensure his safety was a guarantee.

There was a sound coming from the hallway, the sound of footsteps lightly walking up the staircase. When I glanced over towards the open door to see who it was, my dad appeared and came walking hesitantly to my bedroom and peeked his head inside. He looked as though he had a rough night at the office. Hell he _did_. He had to let The Joker get away or else he would have shot me. All of this madness was taking a toll on him — any more would make him crack. And now with The Joker on the loose, his suffering must endure for much longer than he wanted. Actually, he didn't want to suffer in the first place. He didn't want any of this.

With his head poking out, he looked down at David snoring away like a basset hound. His entire body was engulfed by the fluffiness of the bed sheets and the cover, he moved a little, with his chest exposed to us. His chest grew as he inhaled deeper and deeper until he let it all out, his chest then going completely flat. My dad finally welcomed himself into my bedroom and wrapped and arm around my shoulder.

"Babs, is it all right if I can speak to you?"

I shook my head. "Sure."

He acknowledged Jr. with a nod, and I followed him out of my bedroom, down the stairs where my mother was watching the latest on the news, and towards the kitchen where the smell of eggs and bacon were frying on the kitchen stove. The smell was mouth watering; I almost drooled out of my mouth in front of dad because I loved the smell so much. It reminded me so much of the old days when I was to wake up in the morning and be welcomed by the smell of a family breakfast. These days, all of that had changed. Oh, how I miss the old days…

My dad poured me a cup of fresh coffee and handed it to me, as he offered me a seat at the kitchen table where breakfast was being prepped. Some eggshell was scattered about on the plastic table cloth, and a plate of toast was set aside ready to be lathered on with butter. Once my dad sat down he scooted closer to me with his hands wrapped around his coffee mug. He sipped from it, sighed, and looked at me with his weary eyes.

"Your mother and I have been talking lately about what to do with you and David." He frowned at the fact and lowered his head. He looked down at the table as he explained his reasoning. "We think it may be best if you and David were to leave Gotham, because we think The Joker might target our family. I mean — last night was one of the signs that he wants to corrupt us. If he were to do it again, who knows what he will do."

"Why do you think he wants to corrupt us?" I asked, and sipped from my cup.

He groaned. "Before you came back, we've caught The Joker once — twice actually — his mission basically was to let Gotham realize corruption was an everyday matter. Seeing this man in person, just…he knew since the beginning I would be involved with the many deaths of my policemen and workers. He wanted me to corrupt because of that, realizing that I can't trust many of my workers anymore. He doesn't just want me to corrupt — we wants Gotham too corrupt as well. He's done that so to our District Attorney, and look where that ended up to?"

I pressed my lips together as I listened to my father talk about past events with The Joker corrupting Gotham.

"I don't want you to end up where I am today." He looked over to see my mother walking by to take the eggs and bacon off the frying pan, scooping them up with the spatula, and slid them onto a round plate. She placed them on the table and began to finish buttering up the toasts. "Having this much weight on my shoulders…it's weighing me down. I can't have this happen to you. That is why your mother and I think you should leave so you wouldn't have to endure this madness."

I shook my head. "I understand where you are coming from." I leaned in closer to the table; my grip on the cup grew tighter. "However, don't you think Jr. is sick of this too? Don't you think he should leave as well if you don't want him to go through the same crap you're going through?"

"He's already been through it, Babs. You can't fix what's already happened, and Jr.'s been effected by this stuff longer than you have been in Gotham so far." He pulled his cup closer to him to take another sip from it.

"That doesn't mean he can endure this any more like you can." I explained to him, "Jr. told me he wants it all to end. He doesn't want to go through with it anymore."

My mother turned to my father, as though she needed him to stand his grounds and to lay the law down for me.

"I don't know, sweetheart. Right now I can't think straight — I'm just thinking what's best for you…"

"If you want it to be that way, the let me stay. You _promised_ me I could help."

He shook his head. "I did promise you." With a sigh, I could tell my father started to agree with me, and he did. He gave my mother a shrug as a response. "If you do intend to stay," he said, as he reached into his back pocket. "You might need this." Whatever he took out was metal; he took a hold of my hands and placed the object in my hands. Opening them slowly, I looked down to see a hand gun, the same one I used last night to defend myself.

My mother got up and threw her knife onto the table. "James, I told you to never let our kids handle guns!"

"I know," he said, "but for once I need my daughter safe like everyone else."

Eyeing the gun, he carefully pushed the safety button to lock it in place. "Whatever you do, make sure you use it _only_ when you are being _attacked_."

I nodded.

**:: :: ::**

So, here I was, a gun strapped to my belt as though it were my security blanket — I felt like a city cop for once. But I promised myself I would only use it whenever I'm being threatened, and with that I would use it whenever my family was in danger as well. My father lender me his spare gun case he had hidden underneath the bed — even if I have seen it many times before without telling my father — he showed me how to keep it well hidden so that I could take it out and use it in whatever scenario without the fugitive seeing. The lesson felt like it was hours long, but it only took up ten minutes of my time before I were to head down to the station to help him out.

Just when we were about to leave, there was a knock on the front door and my mother answered it. She smiled, and led the person inside our house.

"James, it's Bruce Wayne."

He smiled as well. "Mister Wayne, what a surprise."

I cocked my head towards the man, recognizing him right away. I've met Bruce a couple of times, although we've hardly spark up a good conversation because his type of talk was never in my certain interest. I walked up to him, and he wrapped his arms around me in a welcoming hug.

"Babs," he chuckled. "I didn't know you came back."

I released myself from his hug, and smirked a little. "Well, I am."

My father shook hands with him and excused himself to get something from his bedroom. It was only Bruce and I in the living room; we were quiet for some time until Bruce started to spark up a conversation, one that I could easily get into. "So, I heard you've just graduated. Congrats!"

I blushed. "Thank you, Bruce."

"It's been how long since the last time I saw you?"

"A very long time."

He laughed, and asked out of curiosity, "What brings you to Gotham now?"

"Well, I wanted to help my father out for a first. And secondly, I started to miss the place."

His eyebrows arched after my response sounded gauche to him. His head cocked to the side, his eyes continued to stare at me. "You miss being in Gotham?"

"Yeah…kind of."

"Even with this mess going about?"

"It hasn't bothered me at all. I was used to these kinds of things since I was young."

"Even with The Joker on the loose?"

I shrugged at him, unsure what to say for a first. I've always understood and was used to the fact of Gotham's increasing crime rate since I was a bitsy child; it was a regular cycle gang bangers getting shot, a bank being robbed for cash, a maniac on the loose…I was so used to the idea that it hadn't even bothered me. That is, until now, something I was brand new to, it was rubbing on me like sand paper. The more it rubbed against me, the more exposed I was to the new world I was living in.

A world like today is hard to live in. Period.

I pretended as though I hadn't heard of The Joker before. "What is up with this Joker guy?"

"Basically, he's a weirdo with no life at all. Like to wear women's makeup." Bruce rolled his eyes, and with his hands he gestured an explosion. "Likes to blow things up."

"A-ha." I nodded. "I can tell just by watching the news."

"Yeah, of course. Gotham is freaked out now that's he's on the streets again, and with the news these days it doesn't help at all. It makes the situation worse. As if we really want to know which day we exactly die on…"

"Who knows? Maybe there's a point why Gotham must know what's going on. Without knowing…well…you know what I mean."

"Yes," Bruce said. "It's all fucked up."

Even I agreed. I pushed back my hair and was curious to know as to why he came by. "So, must I ask why you are here?"

"I just came to pay you guys a visit. Also, making sure you're _alive_. They said there was a fight on the streets last night they say The Joker was involved."

Of course, who could forget about the fight? I know I didn't, because I was the one in it. As if I really wanted to tell Bruce I was involved. He'd probably think I was crazy to fight The Joker with my bare hands. I wanted to make things sound more ideal and realistic to him without sharing the whole truthful story. Already knowing that someone had called in about the fight last night, I changed the story around.

"I called it in." I lied.

"You were the one that called it in?" Bruce asked me, dumbfounded.

"Yes. I heard something going on outside and saw a man and a woman fighting."

"Hmm," Bruce mumbled to himself. "Probably was a mobster didn't pay The Joker enough." He laughed.

I laughed along with him, knowing I got away with it. Just as I finished laughing, Jr. entered the room with his backpack dragging across the wooden surface, it made an eerie noise of nylon fabric being scrapped away with fingernails. I felt like putting my index fingers in both my ears to block out the unnecessary noise.

Jr. picked up his backpacked when he saw the reaction my face. "Sorry," he chuckled a little, and slung the backpack over his shoulders. "I'm going to school."

"Do you want a ride so that you wouldn't have to walk all the way there."

He shrugged. "Sure. That's fine with me."

I picked up my bag that was laying on the recliner, and slung it over my shoulders as I walked into the kitchen to tell mom I was bringing Jr. to school. After she answered, I plucked off my keys off the key rack and opened the door for Jr. My father had entered then, and pulled Bruce aside to talk to him.

"I should be back within the next hour." I told him. "I'm going to head out and get a few things after I drop Jr. off."

"Sure thing," my dad said. He laid a hand on his side, indicating the gun that was strapped to my waist as a reminder to use it whenever I was in danger. I gave him a crooked smile, and shut the door behind me.

Jr. and I were quiet throughout the remainder of the ride as I drove him to Gotham City High School, where I used to attend as a high school student. Currently he was in his finishing year as a Sophmore; during this time in May he was preparing for finals coming up the second week of June, which was right around the corner. I certainly remember the old days at Gotham City High – all the fights in the hallways, the gossip about students...you know, the usual high school setting. I was the nerdy kid – well, not too nerdy like comic book nerdy. I was smart with technology like most kids are these days. I hung around with the cool kids and the outsiders simply because I've always been the outgoing kid who didn't mind who I was friends with. A majority of my friends were like that as well.

I've got to say – Jr. is without a doubt a double me, except guys like him were into the usual Playboy related stuff, cars and the type of accessories that came along with them like the rims of tires and so forth. Luckily I haven't found the Playboy stuff, yet, but what was so remarkable about him was that he was into the superhero hype that has been going about for years.

I turned the corner, and from out of the blue a rusted color brick building appeared. The entrance was alive with kids sitting on the stone stair steps of the building, some of them chatting up a storm as others just chilled out doing nothing. I pulled up to the front and put the car into park; Jr. turned and faced me.

"Thanks for the ride, sis." He smiled.

"No problem."

With his backpack sitting on his shoulders, he opened the door and shut it quickly, and turned to wave at me as he caught up with his friends whom were sitting on the stairs waiting for him.

After I dropped off Jr. at school, I went on with my daily chores I intended to do for today. My first stop was at the Gotham City Crimes Unit where my father was working for today. Although he wasn't there at the time, I was kind enough to drop off a few groceries to stock up in their cabinets and refrigerator since the last time I was there the cabinets were barely empty. I also brought along some Starbucks coffee for the employees to keep their eyes wide and open. I didn't forget about the cops of course.

After the visit at the Crimes Unit, I made my way to an electronics store to pick up a few supplies once I begin working with my father, including some devices I consider confidential, yet, I had the will to get these items due to my job. I stocked up on the supplies and made my way to the cash register; the man behind the register was bulky and had a dark brown goatee. He scanned the items and placed them in an opaque bag, and subsequently to paying the man in cash my phone went off without warn.

The ringing made me flinch at the beginning, because the ringtone was a familiar tune to one of the Depeche Mode songs I used to sing and dance to whenever I was alone in my room. Originally, the ringtone was just a simple beeping, so it made me raise my eyebrows to the new song playing from my cell phone. Who else could have done it but my little brother, who've always known I was a huge fan of Depeche Mode.

"You're an idiot, Jr." I moaned.

_Keep in note to hide your cell phone next time_, I reminded myself and mentally took the note down.

I took out my phone and held it up to my face where the screen flashed a mail envelope, indicating a message was sent to me. I clicked the screen with my finger and a message popped up. The message came from Jr.'s phone.

And my mouth dropped open.

_Sis, HELP! There's a shootin at the school! I'm NOT joking!_

I felt my heart race at a thousand miles an hour. He wouldn't be joking at this time of day. Something had to be wrong.

I ran to my car, shoved my bag into the back seat of the car and threw the car into drive with my hand gripped tight to the shifting gear. I forced my foot on the pedal and pushed it with all my might, the wheels began to squeal as I sped away from the parking spot.

In my mind, images appeared — images I consider gravely wrong. I imagined what my brother's face must have looked like when he saw the shooting happening in front of him, if there was blood all over the place, or if my brother was shot in the head. Oh, I felt like puking if that really happened. I imagined the entire scene where the shooting might be taken place, how horrific it could have been if it all started in the lunch cafeteria!

There were sirens in the distance; from behind a cop car was tailgating me with its front end sticking out. The vehicle slipped by and sped up to catch to the high school that was now in chaos. I followed along to keep up with the cruiser.

_Does dad know about this?_ I wondered.

My teeth clenched together, imaging if he didn't.

Another cruiser pulled out from behind a building, with its sirens howling from the speakers above and the lights flashing on it's roof, it slid across the road and followed the road towards where more cop cars were pulling out. They were all flashing their lights and setting off their sirens. With no time to think, I pushed harder on the pedal to keep up with them. I almost knocked a person off the road when I passed them, but I didn't care at all because what my mind was only focused on was my brother's life.

Then, from out of nowhere, a truck sped across the road — it made a direct hit at the cop cars, they flipped into the air and landed either on its side or upside down. My mouth literally dropped to the floor.

I shoved my foot on the brake and the car squealed to a stop. My grip on the steering wheel grew tighter as I saw the truck slam into another cop car, making the cop car flip on its back and inside I could see two people with their arms flailing out.

_I can't drive by there. Who knows what they'll do to my car._

There was another way around the block to get to the school, but it consisted of sharp turns and driving through alleyways. No matter what, I couldn't let Jr. get killed by whoever was in the school, so I decided to take the shortcut. I put the car into reverse, and drove through an alley where it was a direct shortcut to the road next door, and once I got there I sped off again to get to the school.

I finally saw the school appear from around the corner, and my worst fears had transpired then. What I had feared had come true. Blood was scattered about the front entrance to the school. I felt a lump form in the back of my throat.

The sound of kids screaming made my spine tingle, I could hear people screaming inside the building, and gun shots echoing throughout the block. I swung the car door open, and with my gun hugging my side I pulled it out from its carrier and I pushed the safety button off. I ran up the staircase with the gun close to my chest; the door was opened when I reached the final step, and from inside the sound was louder as it echoed against the stone walls. To my shock and dismay, there were bodies on the floor. Arms flailed out like a birds wings, blood oozing out from underneath the bodies, heads turned upside down so that their bloody faces would not be seen.

I felt my phone vibrate again, and I picked it up to see another text message from Jr.

_HELP! In Collins class! _The message read.

_Mr. Collins class?_ I mused. I remember Mr. Collins classroom was located on the western end wing of the school when I used to attend Gotham City High School. Knowing this already, Jr. was likely being cornered by the shooters. My heart started to race again, and I took off towards the west wing of Gotham City High School. There were more bodies as I ran the way to Mr. Collins classroom, I felt like puking my guts out by seeing the horror everywhere I looked. Blood, bodies…ugh.

As I made my way to the classroom, the shooting suddenly started up again, and was directly coming from the end of the wing. I ran faster.

_Please, be okay_, I begged mentally.

I slid across the bloody floor and I stood right in front of the door leading into Mr. Collins room. I placed my hand on the handle, turned the knob slightly to open it, and from in between the crack of the opening was Jr. crouched up into a ball with his arms wrapped around his knees. He was covered in cuts and bruises. I opened the door more; a pool of blood was underneath my feet as I entered.

It was worse than seeing stuff like this on TV, because I was seeing this in reality. In one of the corners of the classroom was a pile of lifeless bodies on top of one another, and those bodies I was able to recognize instantly. Four out of the ten bodies in that pile were Jr.'s close friends — his only good friends he's known for years were now on the list of the dead.

The lump on my throat was harder as I swallowed. Jr. scurried backwards with his back up against a wall. Horror was seen all over his face.

"Babs! Get out!" He yelled all of a sudden.

I tried to reach out to him, but he continued to back away.

"Jr., what's going on-?"

"GET OUT OF HERE!"

I heard the door slam shut behind me, making me spin on the balls of my heels. My heart stopped beating then.

The Joker had been hiding behind the door the whole time I was standing in the classroom. His grin was the size of a watermelon, his yellow tinted teeth flashed at me. From head to toe he was covered in blood, blood of the innocent. A gun was seen in his hand.

I started to feel the world spin as The Joker locked the door with one of his hands and started to walk up to me, his grin never disappearing away. I felt his pleasure for revenge coming out from his estranged voice.

"Did you miss me, Miss Gordon?" The Joker asked.

* * *

**O.O**

**DUN. DUN. DUNNNN. This certainly doesn't look good in Barbara's terms. **

**It was so hard to end this chapter; I had so many ideas, yet, only one would be perfect and this one won in the end. I'm in the outlining stages for chapter 4, so I wouldn't expect the next chapter to be up within the next few days (Next Thursday and Friday I'll be going to an FBLA Conference, so I'll have no time to work on Policy of Truth then.) Then again, if I do get some work over the weekend then that will be even better.**

**Feel free to leave your comments or questions, and I'll be sure to answer them ASAP.**


	4. Chapter 4: A Point Proven

**Hey there my fellow readers! I hope I didn't keep you waiting (well, I probably did.) Don't keep waiting anymore, because here is your latest chapter to Policy of Truth.**

**Reminder, the first part is in 3****rd**** person from Jr's perspective. 3**

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**Chapter IV**

_Earlier Before..._

James "Jr." had never thought of something happening in his school, the thought of it hadn't even been brought up in his mind until the recent crimes The Joker had been causing since he had escaped from his interrogation. Truth be told, Jr. didn't consider himself not as nervous as everyone else was, because he believed all of this madness would end with his dad – or Batman – handcuffing The Joker with their eyes closed.

So, all in all, he didn't give a damn. He just wanted The Joker caught, and for his father to feel better.

At lunch, most of his friends were mute about the recent crimes, probably for the same reason Jr. had in mind. They simply didn't care. However, because of the recent turn in events they were wondering as well if something were to happen in their school what they would do in their part to keep people safe. They didn't think of the slightest situation possible other than someone hacking into their school server, or a robbery – which was less likely plausible.

One of Jr's friends, named Embry, had brought up the topic about something happening in their school. "What would you guys suppose could happen during a regular school day, especially this time around?"

"You mean like something chaotic?" A boy across from him asked.

"Yeah. What would be the worst thing to happen while we are in school?"

Jr. pondered about possible situations happening during a regular school day – similar events that would happen in most schools like a sudden death, or a kid having a seizure in the middle of class. Those were too common though. It had to be something that rarely happens yearly.

"What about a school shooting?" Jr. wondered.

"Naw. That's impossible." Embry discarded his pondering. "This school has the highest security possible. The entrance doors are always locked, so it'd be hard form someone to actually break in and start shooting."

"Well, what I had in mind was a student. Not just some random person from the streets."

"Oh, well then...it's likely possible." He took a huge gulp from his VitaminWater. "But there are security guards all over the school, so they would have caught him before he did something."

"And there are walk through metal detectors at the front entrance." Sam, who was sitting next to Jr., added to Embry's statement.

Jr. shook his head. "This is getting to sound weird. Can we drop the topic for once?"

Embry lowered his head, and agreed. "Sure thing." He knew of the current situation Jr's father was going through, so bringing up such a topic had always hurt Jr. It even hurt him on occasion, since his father died from one of The Joker's mad schemes months ago. He still couldn't get over the fact his father was killed by The Joker; with the news always talking about deaths and so forth Embry couldn't get the topic off his mind.

When lunch ended, Jr. began to walk to his next class for History as his friends trailed along behind him. As they got to class on time, they noticed how the rest of the class was as mute as they were. Everyone was affected by The Joker's crimes – not a single person in the room had actually applauded for The Joker since the first day he started madness. In fact, nobody in this school wanted to applaud him.

Jr. dropped his stuff at his desk and informed his teacher, Mr. Collins he was heading for the bathroom. Once he got his permission by Mr. Collins he left the room and walked towards the eastern wing where the men's bathrooms were. Just before he was able to walk inside, he heard a sudden _BANG_ echoing throughout the hallway. It caught Jr.'s attention right away, and he cocked his head in the direction where the sound was coming from. This time, the sound was that of a gun going off. The shots were in unison, and they grew louder as Jr. started to panic.

He started to hear screaming from the classrooms down farther of the school; a group of kids popped out from one of the corners, screaming in tears and running for their lives. Suddenly, one of this kids who was caught in the back of the group was shot right through his head. He saw the boys eyes roll to the back of his head as he fell to the ground lifelessly.

_Oh my God_, Jr. yelled in his mind.

He darted out from the bathroom and ran back to his class just as the shooters ran from the same corner the kid was shot. They were wearing masks — clown masks — armed with heavy duty guns and grenades the size of a person's fist, one of the men started shooting at the ceiling as he caught up to one of the kids who had fallen due to the sound. He grabbed the kid from the back of their head, and stomped on their leg, causing the tortured teenager to scream in agony. The rest of the men started shooting at people in their way.

Jr. started running even faster when the men started getting closer to him; all of the classrooms he passed by were crying for help, they slammed their doors shut hoping the men wouldn't get in. Sadly, for one of the classrooms they were the men's new targets — they pushed themselves in just when the teachers was about to shut in on them. Jr. heard another round of guns going off.

He made it to his classroom, and swung the door open to get inside. He slammed it shut once he got in, with his weight up against the wooden panel he locked it with his twitching fingers, his breathing became heavy when he started to hear more screams coming from the hallway. With his back turned against the door, he saw his class crouched against the side of the room, their eyes wide in horror.

It didn't take the men long to find Jr.'s class, because as Jr. kept his weight on the door to hold it shut, he heard someone trying to break the door open. The door started to move…and was forced open when a gunman kicked it, making Jr. trip and slam face first against the wall next to him. The door was protecting him as the men entered. Then, he heard the bullets falling to the ground, and the cries of his class as they were getting shot at; tears started to swell in his eyes.

_No!_ He cried.

The screaming subsided once the gunmen stopped shooting. All that Jr. could see was blood splattered on the floor and walls, it was like a horror film except everything was real — blood and all. As the door slowly let up on him, he saw the horrific scene with his very own eyes. His entire class, including his closest best friends…were brutally murdered.

A grip on his shoulder made Jr. wince and was taken aback by the man whose hand was now on is neck; he grimaced, and started to fight back. He clawed at the man with his fingers, his nail dug into the man's face and he started to yelp. He retreated to get his 'buds' to help, and from out of nowhere a mob of men appeared. Jr. was roughly pulled out from hiding behind the door and then he felt a boulder landing on top of him. He was pinned down to the ground with the men on top of him in the formation of a huge pig pile, he struggled underneath their weight as they tried to keep him steady.

Jr. let out a yell when the pile grew heavier on his chest. "Get off of me!" His words were muffled out from being underneath the huge pile, so what only came out was "_Ge off a me!"_

Then, he heard _his_ voice.

"What in the world are you gentlemen doing?" He laughed. "This isn't kindergarten you know. Play time was long ago."

Jr. spotted a pair of feet near his head, and hovering above him was none other than The Joker himself. He swallowed hard.

"Why look who it is…" The Joker smiled.

The men looked up to their leader, while they still had their weight on Jr. to hold him down. Jr. struggled underneath, trying to get out. The Joker's smile soon vanished as he told his men to get off of him. He shooed them away, his shadow was the only thing left which blanketed Jr. in a dark mass like a blanket. He let his tongue glide across his lips, and made a smacking sound inside his mouth as he observed the struggling Jr. from a bird's eye view. Jr. felt his cell phone fall from his pocket, and quickly he hid it behind his back hoping The Joker didn't see it.

He pulled out his favorable knife from his wool purple coat, and fiddled with it as he approached Jr. with a sensible tone. "James Gordon Jr. What a surprise…I didn't expect to see you today."

"What the hell is your problem, man?" Jr. unexpectedly retorted, who then shielded his face from The Joker as his foot came down next to him, as though he wanted to stomp on his face due to the ruthless comment. He crouched up into a ball as The Joker continued to kick at him with his foot. He kicked back at him, making The Joker stumble back.

"I was only having fun…" he sighed. "And now you've _spoiled_ my fun." He took a hold of Jr.'s face, and pressed the knife up against his cheek. He asked Jr., "And what do I do to people who spoil my fun?" and made a gesture with his knife as if it were cutting through someone's cheek.

Jr. felt his whole body shaking at this point.

_Damn, he's going to kill me._

"What shall we do with him?" One of the men asked The Joker.

The Joker looked up at the man who responded, and after going silent for a moment he grinned at Jr. "Actually, I think I have a pretty good idea what to do with little Jim here."

Jr. felt his gloved hand wrap around his chest, searching for whatever was hidden behind his back. A cell phone was seen in his hands, and Jr.'s eyes widened.

"This…is…_perfect_." The Joker enunciated. He flipped the phone open and noticed on the caller ID the name he had been wishing for. _Babs_ — Barbara Gordon. "I think I'm going to make a friendly phone call to your sister." He said, and loosened his grip on Jr.'s face. He pushed himself up and started to walk away with Jr's phone. "Keep the boy occupied for a while." He told his men.

And as told, they pulled up Jr. from the bloodied floor and shoved him against the corner of the room so that he wouldn't escape. The Joker walked out and observed the silent hallway of kids and adult scattered across the floor. On the cell phone he went under the options button and clicked on the envelope image, and started writing; he finished his message and reviewed it to make sure it sounded right. He had to laugh at the last word at the end.

_Sis, HELP! There's a shootin at the school! I'm NOT Joking!_

**:: :: ::**

"Did you miss me, Miss Gordon?"

My stomach started to flip flop inside my abdomen, it wanted burst out like a huge explosion, one that would end not so well.

Jr. was crouched into a tight ball behind my back, he shoved his face in between his legs do that he wouldn't see any more of the nonsense going on. I could easily hear his uneven breathing become subtler and less lively as time progressed. He was scared out of his mind — just like me.

Hell, here's why. We were cornered by The Joker who had probably planned this all out before he even escaped from his interrogation just a day ago, he wanted Jr. and I to face whatever consequences we deserved. That is, if we had done anything in the first place, which I doubt we ever did. I mean — my father was the one who brought in The Joker into custody twice. Hands cuffs and all. And yet, this guy was able to get away. His plan to make things worse for us was to make us understand we were his newly targets simply because we were the ones that had him shipped off to Arkham Asylum.

It's like pointing the index finger at someone who did something wrong; the one person being pointed at would be to blame. He was doing that to us. He had his finger on us the whole time he was shipped to Arkham.

My mouth just let it all out. "You are sick."

The Joker laughed, simply amused by my current expression on my face.

"Do you find this funny?" I asked him sternly.

Again, The Joker couldn't stop laughing. "I know I do."

Ugh.

"What is your problem?"

"_My_ problem?" He questioned my tone. "Don't you think it's _your_ problem now?"

"How so?"

He licked his lip and looked up at the ceiling. "Well, you're the one who came to save your brother, and look at the _predicament_ you're in as of now" He started walking towards me. "I find it hard for people to do such an act like you did. Nobody has the guts anymore to think of others than themselves but you did. I'm surprised by that." He hovered his gloved hand above my head indicating the difference in height. "I mean look at you, you're half my size, and yet inside you, you have this ferocity like a lion. Those are my _kind_ of people."

I rolled my eyes clockwise. "That's quite obvious."

The Joker grinned. "I know. Isn't that neat?" A hand flashed out and grabbed my throat. I felt my airways being blocked as his hand wrapped around tightly causing the walls on my throat to collapse. He brought my head closer to his, almost inches away from his white painted face. "And you've got this feisty side to you as I mentioned before. When I see a feisty woman, I know they are a menace for _trouble_."

My throat started to swell up as The Joker's grip grew tighter, my breathing grew faint as I struggled to fight back. This alerted Jr. right away, in which he then jumped up from the floor and with his hands out he intended to pull me away from getting suffocated. But The Joker had plans as well; when Jr. jumped up to help, he whipped out his gun from his side pocket and pointed it at Jr.'s head.

His voice wasn't as insidious as before – this time, it sounded threatening. "I wouldn't get up if I were you."

Jr.'s eyes widened, his hands were positioned right in front of him as though he were trying to defend himself. My mind started to race with thoughts about Jr.'s risk of getting shot by The Joker. And all of those thoughts reminded me of yesterday's event when The Joker threatened my life with a gun at my head. Just thinking about it made my throat close up even tighter, the image was there in my mind — it replaced the current day with an interrogation room, a man without his makeup on, and my father who was holding me in his arms.

_"…I wish I could have stayed longer, but I do have to be going like all of us crazy people have to." The gun caressed against the back of my neck._

It felt so real that it sent chills down my spine. I felt the gun touch my burning skin, it cooled it down instantly, and yet it was a scary chill sensation, one sensation I did not like.

_My father murmured, "Please take that gun off my daughter."_

I looked up to see my father's eyes water up at the rims; I didn't know he was tearing up when The Joker was threatening my life the first time around. It made me wonder in awe why I did not see this in the beginning.

_"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I've had the gun pointing at little Barbara." He adjusted the gun, making it tilt towards the lower part of my head._

I was shaking like last time, and I heard myself say "Dad" even when my lips didn't move the slightest inch.

_"Get that gun away from my daughter." My father said sternly, keeping his cool. He squeezed me in his grasp as he tried to persuade The Joker to remove his gun away from me._

Then, I remember what he said.

_The Joker glared at my father as he smacked his lips together. "If you really care about your daughter's life…then you'd let me go."_

The image suddenly disappeared, revealing the same classroom I saw moments ago with The Joker pointing a gun at Jr.'s head. The gun was inching closer towards him as he tried to persuade The Joker to let me go. I couldn't let my brother be at the same risk I was just a day ago.

No. Not ever again.

"Get that gun away from my brother's head."

The Joker's eyes broadened for a second for he was surprised by the sudden response he just heard. His eyes trailed to me slowly, my fists were ready to take a whack at his head any time he was about to beat me and my brother to a pulp.

And then, a dark shadow appeared behind him, a hand reached out and grabbed onto his shoulders, pulling him back with such force I didn't see him coming. Batman was standing there with his dark cape flagging behind, he cocked his head at me and yelled, "Go!"

Jr. ran up to me, and with his hand wrapped around mine he pulled me out of the classroom.

I felt my body being pulled by an invisible force as Jr. dragged me out, he scooted behind me then and placed both of his hands on my back to help me get out of the school unharmed. I made sure nobody would be in my way to harm my only brother, so I brought up my gun and unlocked it from its safety harness. Form the current hallway we were coming from it lead us to the middle of the east wing where there were a whole bunch of lockers surrounding us. Jr. and I spun in circles as we debated on where to go next.

"Getting out from the gymnasium is probably the safest way out of this school." Jr. advised me. "Those goons are probably blocking the front entrance since you came in from that way."

I nodded. "Okay, lead me there."

He waved me forwards as I followed him out of the maze of lockers. We had just come out of the maze when then in horror Jr. and I were met by a group of goons with guns in their hands. Their identities were shielded by clown masks.

"There they are!" One of the goons pointed at us, shoving the man in front of him to move forward and start shooting at us.

My eyes darted all over for an exit as Jr., who was shaking from head to toe, had his back up against me. I placed both my hands on his back to shove him forward once I saw the perfect exit. And right on cue when Jr. fell forward the gunman started shooting.

The lockers behind us were getting beaten up by bullets marking their territory, they flew across the room hitting the brick walls at lightning speed, the bricks crumble on impact and fell to the floor with a _thunk_ and _clank_. Shards of brick flew right at us, some were the sizes of marbles — one of them had hit me in the back of my head and on impact I placed my hands on the spot where it hit. It felt sore to the touch as I covered my head from other marble size meteors charging at us.

I followed Jr. run from corner to corner of each of the hallways, suddenly on the third turn he ran back to me with his arms flailing out and wrapped them around my waist.

"There's more of them!" He said, although his words were barely comprehendible due to the sound of guns going off.

And sure enough, I saw two men come from the same corner and stopped when they saw us both clinging to each other. Their guns then were pointed at Jr. Without thinking, I extended my arm out and began to shoot at them, the bullets came out without notice, and the two men that were about to shoot at my brother slumped to the ground on their backs, blood started to leak out from the bullets holes.

My mouth dropped.

_I just shot two men. Well, my father did say to use the gun whenever I was being threatened…_

"Babs!" Jr. yelled into my shirt. "You just shot at them!"

Yes. I did.

"I had to or else they would have killed you."

He looked up with his puppy dog eyes and a little smile was seen on his face. "Thanks for doing that."

The happy moment soon ended when we heard The Joker yelling for backup. This immediately made Jr. and I start running again. Like before I followed Jr. to the gymnasium, and within seconds we both saw the gymnasium doors wide open. He peaked inside and waved me down to follow him inside. All the shooting that was going on outside the gymnasium was echoing inside, it rang inside my ears while we ran for the exit.

The sad part about that, was that when we approached the door, we saw it was barricaded with silver chains and a pad lock. My stomach turned inside out.

"Damn it! They locked it." Jr. retorted, shaking his head.

I looked around the gymnasium for another way out. We seemed hopeless for answers — wherever I looked it seemed I was out of options to save Jr. from these crazy people who worked with The Joker, and to save him from The Joker as well. It felt like I was being cornered with problems surrounded me every inch of the building, those that are strong and those that were weak — no matter what, though, they wouldn't go away.

I made a promise to myself that I would fix this mess my father was in, and I would keep it that way even if I knew for a fact the problems could never leave my side until things were to settle down unexpectedly.

Jr. looked around as well and stiffened when his eyes were drawn to a window high up. I turned to the direction where the window was; it was high up, from underneath there was a set of benches that were lined up against the wall. I noticed from the corner of my eye Jr. was smiling.

"I have an idea." He said. He ran to the wall of benches and from one side he placed both his hands on a handle. "We can pull the benches out and climb up to the window."

I nodded in acknowledgement. I ran to the other side where I could see another handle that would unlock the benches and have them slide out from its vertical positioning. With my hands grasping the handle I pushed down hard, and the lock unlatched. The benches started to unravel, flying forward. Jr. came running towards me and avoided getting hit by the benches when they finally started to slow down.

In the end, a staircase revealed from our side.

We darted for the staircase when we heard a noise coming from the hallway. It wasn't that far by the time we reached the top of the staircase, adrenaline rush and all. When we finally reached the window I unlatched it from its lock and flung it open. From outside I could see a whole bunch of cop cars arriving — and dad standing right behind the metal fence taking on his walke-talkie.

Jr. pushed himself up to see out the window, and when he saw dad he yelled out for him to catch his attention.

"Dad!"

Out dad did hear Jr. cry for him, he spun on the balls of his feet and turned to see us waving at him.

"Jr!" He yelled. He pulled a cop with him as he made his way around the fence.

Suddenly, my attention was caught off guard when I heard the gymnasium door fly open — one of The Joker's goons had broken it by the hinges, it swung open freely on impact, revealing a man in a purple coat standing beside it. He was smeared in blood and make up, and the realization made my heart race a thousand beats a second. The Joker had spotted us, and without warn he was already at the bottom of the staircase making his way up.

"Hurry, dad!" Jr. pleaded. His eyes started to swell up, causing my throat to throb. The Joker's grunts got louder as he stampeded towards us, I shook in fear as he got closer and closer…

Again, I wasn't thinking this time when I was pulling out my gun. I aimed it at him and pulled the trigger.

_BANG!_

The Joker fell back with one of his hands grasping onto his injured arm. He struggled to get up, his moans shook the gymnasium to its core, blood was leaking out from the gunshot wound in his left arm. I continued to look at the struggling man in awe.

_I just shot The Joker._ I mused silently, and smiled mentally. _Sweet._

I cocked my head at another group of people barging in through the door, and saw more of The Joker's goons coming in single file. At the same time I could clearly hear my brother and my dad talking amongst them about finding a way for us to get out of the building. There was no time to finalize plans especially when The Joker was right on our tail.

Jr. started lean in closer in the window, continuing to plead for his father's help.

"Jr., this may be stupid," I said, and put both my hands on Jr.'s back, "but this is for your own good."

And with a shove, I saw Jr. fall through the open window screaming his lungs out. His body flipped flopped all the way down — luckily there was a rooftop from where he landed. It was a good seven feet below, and when he landed he started to slide some more all the way to the edge of the roof.

"Babs!" He screamed with his hands extended out to reach me.

The cops on the ground saw him sliding off the roof, and they immediately called for the fire department behind them to get a landing pad to catch Jr. from falling to the ground. They pulled out a huge cloth, each person holding onto their own end of the blanket; they ran to the edge where Jr. finally slid off, and he landed lightly on the blanket with his body flip flopping again.

In my mind, I was cheering with joy that Jr. was safe at last.

Except for me.

Suddenly, a gloved hand was placed on my shoulder and I felt my body flying backwards, landing on the benches all the way down to the gymnasium floor where I landed on a goon's foot. It stabbed me in the back when I landed, the pain was horrific. The goon removed his foot and went to grab my shoulders until a black cape surrounded him — he was engulfed by the mass and his screams were muffled out as Batman threw him, making an eerie squeaking noise as he glided across the floor on his back. The goon grew weary and passed out.

My breathing grew heavy after I was saved for once by Batman — once again like last time. But it soon ended when The Joker appeared out of nowhere, in his hand was a knife and he aimed it at Batman while he jumped on top of him. Batman stumbled back with his hands out, he wrapped his fingers around The Joker's neck and threw him across the floor where the weak goon was laying.

Another goon approached behind him and wrapped his arms around Batman's neck, his face though was unprotected by a mask. He looked like a Cuban person with short brown hair and a thick goatee on his chin, yet, he looked dangerous within his eyes. Batman was strangling in the man's tight hold. If only I weren't in so much pain I could help him fight back…

The Joker rose up from the floor, and stomped on the floor with his right foot; a small knife popped out from underneath.

My body yelled at me to get up.

_He's going to kill him! Do something!_

The Joker charted at him, the knife still sticking out from his shoe. He gave him a good kick in the gut, knife pointing forward, it jabbed him in between his armor.

_Barbara Gordon_, my body yelled again. _Get your butt up from the floor and go kick The Joker's ass!_

And that's what I exactly did. Even if my body was aching I jumped up from the floor and from behind The Joker's back I threw my hands on his shoulders, pushed down on them hard to make him fall on his behind. His head hit the floor with a _smack_, loud enough to make the floor shake.

His eyes looked up at me in awe, as though he were surprised I had the guts to fight him once again, as if I were really that stupid to make such a move. I saw his hands reach out for my ankle and I felt him tug hard to make me fall on my own butt. My head smacked against the floor too, and this time it hurt even more than the time I fell from the bleachers. Batman groaned, and one of his hands went for the goon's face. The sharp razors on his wrists dug deep into the goon's cheek, his cheek bled as his facial muscles started to rip apart like paper. With one swift movement, Batman kicked the man back, and the goon fell to the floor lifelessly.

He noticed the new predicament I was in already: The Joker was hovering above me, ready to jab the knife wherever it would cause fatal damage. A couple of times I tried to kick The Joker in the gut to get him off of me — yet, his powerful hands pinned me down from moving even the slightest inch. Once he let one of his hands free he pulled out the knife from his pocket, and the blade soon popped out.

That was when Batman flew at him, and pushed him off of me; the weight was lifted off my chest — a relieving moment then, but what I was seeing had much more to say than what my mind would have come up with if I were to tell everyone the struggle I went through with The Joker.

I saw them fight to the death. And I mean, literally, they _were_ fighting to the death.

My vision was becoming blurry as the dust got into my eyes, I was seeing clips of the fight: Batman punching The Joker in the jaw, then a knife jabbing into Batman's chest. Blood and…well…you know what I mean. (Luckily, though, there were no guts spewing about. I would have thrown up if I'd seen that.) For one second, I saw Batman throwing The Joker to the floor, and then the other second I saw The Joker right next to me.

I swallowed hard.

His hands were wrapped around my waist by the time Batman got up from falling a while back, his fingernails — even if they were gloved — were digging into my side like small knives. He heaved me up from the floor and pulled me close into his chest, arms around me like plant veins, and his hold was squeezing the life out of me. Then, a gun was pointed at my head.

_Not this crap again!_

Batman finally steadied himself and stiffened when he saw the gun in The Joker's hands.

"Put down the gun." Batman said, his voice was groggy and hoarse.

The Joker laughed. "Oh, I will. Just do me a favor will you?" The gun was cocked up at an angle from the tip of my ear. "Take off the mask and I'll let Miss Gordon go."

I was able to get a good hint of The Joker's unusual smell when my face was shoved against his coat. His coat smelt of gasoline and ash — I nearly choked on the scent, and I felt like coughing to show how awful the smell was, but it would have pissed The Joker off even more.

"Put down the gun!" His voice grew louder.

The Joker rolled his eyes and glared down at me. I felt his breath hit my face. "Jesus, people these days have no respect…"

This pissed off Batman of course, and The Joker knew that for a fact. He could feel Batman's hands coming for his throat. He backed a little and I felt the gun caressing my cheek; I started to shake.

"Ah, ta-ta. We wouldn't want the lady to get hurt, now would we?"

Oh, God how much I hated being stuck in the middle of things…

I saw within Batman's eyes how much he hated this chaos. He wanted to end things like two gentlemen would, without having to kill each other, and hopefully to make a deal with The Joker. Leaving town would be nice…as if that will ever happen.

He groaned again, "Things do not need to end this way, Joker."

From my point of view, The Joker, again, didn't seem to give a damn. "In my world, there's a need for a cause. _This_ for instance has a cause." I felt his eyes looking down at me for a second time as though he were trying to prove his point. "If I can easily corrupt Gotham from within the heart, then I bet an average citizen like Barbara here can do the same."

"What you're doing is _making_ the citizens go mad. They have no need to even touch up on the stuff you have the ability to do — that is why they're fed up with your recklessness. They've had enough of you for once, because they know for a fact they are not like you."

"Oh really?" The Joker asked him curiously, licking his bottom lip. "What if they _can_ be like me? Do you think that's true?"

Batman signed, "Yes. It is."

"That is exactly what I've been telling the Commissioner the entire time. People are easily inflicted by this stuff — Dent for instance — and look where he is now." A soft chuckle slipped through his red painted lips.

I was disgusted by this. How could he find it so funny? Jr.s' right: he's such a bastard.

My ears perked up when I heard a sound coming from behind one of the gymnasium doors, particularly the one that was barricaded shut. They were the voices of the police crew and my father who sounded worried and sick to his stomach. The door started to rattle. The Joker saw this, and knew he had little to no time to get out of the building before he'd be caught by the police and Batman.

I felt my whole body being twisted as he spun around to face the one door that was completely open. Batman stood in front of him to prevent him from getting away. The Joker groaned, rolling his eyes again.

"Will you please move?" The Joker removed his gun away from my head, and had it pointing towards Batman.

"I'm not letting you get away again-"

There was a loud shot made, and it made the gymnasium echo to life. My mouth dropped as I saw Batman fall to the floor with his hands placed on his abdomen, there was blood coming out from in between his armor. He had been shot by The Joker, and he didn't even care that Batman was in pain. Or even _dying_.

I felt my face heat up, my chest was filled with fury, and I pushed myself away from The Joker who suddenly was taken aback by my actions. I started to throw my fists at him, hopping I would hit directly in his face. His hands flailed out while I continued to beat him, a face now smeared in fresh blood it mixed in with his white makeup causing a pink tint to show up thereafter.

He looked even scarier with blood smeared all over his pallid face.

The look on his face had made me stop in my tracks, and soon my hands fell weary after beating him ferociously. His hands were still in front of his face as I removed my hands from him and looked down to see the damage done — one of the scars on his cheek was torn open just enough for blood to be seen. My mouth hung open.

Was I really that _furious_?

It had to be true, because when I glanced down at my soiled hands I saw there was blood on the knuckles. I couldn't believe it. I had beaten The Joker with my own hands — my _bloody_ hands.

From out of the silence, there was a soft chuckle, and the chuckling was coming from The Joker. Who else would have been laughing?

"My point is proven." He mumbled softly, still chuckling.

_Oh God, what have I done?_

"No." I whispered — he was right no matter what — my throat was throbbing again, there was water on the rims of my eyes. My hand went for my mouth. _No, no, I couldn't have been that ferocious._

I didn't _want_ to believe it — even though it was true.

The Joker was right. Any average person could turn against themselves and become the monster within. That happened to my father when he was interrogating The Joker last night; he was able to get underneath his skin like a bug, dig through the plot holes and suck out my father's rational thinking. And when he did, my father went…crazy. This didn't just happen to my father — it happened to everyone.

I felt my face go from soft to contorted; disgust was seen all over my face due in part I was awed I would go from sane to _insane_. Hell, I'd kicked The Joker's ass. Who else would have the guts to do that? Well, I didn't have those guts.

_Maybe you weren't in your current state of mind._ My brain told me. _You were probably possessed by a poltergeist._

I was possessed — possessed by The Joker's virus. The whole time I had been hoping that I wouldn't get it — I even believed I wouldn't get infected — and here I was now covered in The Joker's blood, red handed for my own violent actions. I felt like throwing up.

The Joker's chuckle grew louder as he started to get himself up from the floor.

I'm dead.

Crap.

"BABS!"

I turned all of a sudden, the noise rung inside my ears. Thing went from bad to worse when I saw a person standing by the gymnasium doorway, and that person was David.

From out of the blue, Batman threw himself at The Joker behind me — who at the time held the same gun in his hands and was pointing it at David's head — he kicked the gun out of his hands and started attacking him once more. David approached me from behind my back and took a hold of my shoulder, and started to pull me out of the fight.

"Babs, let's go!" He yelled, and threw his arms around me.

I held onto him like a monkey clinging onto their mother; he led me out of the gymnasium and through the blood covered halls of the school. We passed by bodies, those that would be nameless until they are identified by the police, and we spotted out a few that seemed to still be clinging onto life. David flagged at them to get up and to follow him out of the building, and soon enough after passing by a few survivors we had a group following us out of the building. David was a leader to them — he would lead them to freedom.

And soon, we saw the entrance, our hands extended out to reach for the door handles. In a matter of seconds we were outside in the bright sunshine.

I was blinded by the brightness of the sun, and held my hand in front of my eyes to see where I was going. There were ambulances parked right on the sidewalk, and cruisers with their lights flashing, tragic was held to a complete stop as more ambulances and fire trucks arrived from around the corner. The sirens shook the ground beneath me, and it even scared me when one of the fire trucks blew their horn wicked loud that it popped my eardrum.

The group of kids that were originally behind us were dragged away by EMT's to get their wounds checked out and fixed, some of them were pulled aside by cops to see if they could get any information off of them about the school shooting and who was the ring leader of it.

I hugged David tightly as he pulled me aside to give me a bear hug as well.

"Are you okay?" David asked me, his face was shoved into my lower neck so it was difficult to comprehend his question when his words were all muffled out.

I gave a slanted nod as I glanced down as his lowered face, seeing his expression was horrified and yet grateful that I made it out alive. Soon, from the corner of my eyes I saw Jr. appear with Dad who also looked as terrified as everybody else. He ran into me, his arms wrapped around like two ribbons being tied together in a bow.

What surprised me a lot was that my father was crying. Ever since I was little, I would never see my father cry in public, he was the kind of person who would hold it in until he got home and let his emotions out when he is isolated in his bedroom. Indeed, I was surprised he was actually letting his emotions go in public, so now everyone gets to see his true reaction to the shooting.

From the looks of it, he had enough of the madness like everyone else had for months. Now I got to see the whole thing — clearly I understood why there's so much turmoil in these people's lives.

Thus, this means one thing in general — even if The Joker was loose on the streets, I was here to stay, and to stay in Gotham for good until I'd get The Joker's butt back in Arkham Asylum. I made sure this promise was permanent, so I made a mental note of it while I tried to hug my father back.

A few minutes later after safely getting out of the school David and my father brought me to one of the ambulances to get my cuts checked out. They gave me a clean bill of health and let me go with a few stitched here and there on my arms and legs. After getting checked up, David offered me a ride back to my house, which I agreed nonetheless. He brought me over to the car, opened the passenger door, and bucked me in. The entire time he helped me out I could only think of one thing that was stuck in my mind.

The Joker had proven his point.

I stared out the window just when David finished bucking me in.

"What a hectic day." I heard him mumble as he loosened the strap across my chest.

I nodded. "Yeah."

That was all I said to him as he slammed the door shut, and walked away to see my father. Heck, that one single word summarized the entire event.

My hand felt for the cut on my pants right beside the side pocket, and when I did my entire body stiffened when I felt something inside the pocket. My fingers glided on the glossy object thin as paper; I carefully produced the object out and held it up to my face. My eyes broadened.

It was a Joker card, scribbled with a message on it.

_Even the sanest people can turn into the craziest people on this planet. I have done so by proving to people, people like Harvey Dent and Batman for instance. There is no such thing as a normal person, if there ever were then we'd be begging for their normality. Gotham today is far from becoming normal ever again. There's much more to come for this city…_

My heart stopped then when I read the last sentence.

_The sane become the insane __—__ and you're about to become one of them. _

_J._

* * *

**Oh, I know. I'm making you cry because the chapter ends here at such a huge climax. T_T Don't worry, the next one shall be up soon. C:**

**If you are bored and don't know what to do as you wait for the next one to be up, I highly recommend you go to the YouTube channel called TheJokerBlogs. It is an awesome youtube saga about The Joker in Arkham Asylum, and the guy who plays him is phenomenal. Let me tell you, the show gets very addicting along the way.**

**Review C:**


	5. Chapter 5: Party Crashers

**Here is our chapter five! W00T!**

**Do I need to say more?**

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**Chapter V**

Okay. I will admit for the very first time since coming back to Gotham and the incident at the high school days ago, I am completely mortified by the whole ordeal with The Joker. Here's why to be precise: I'm his new target.

The statement is simple, but it summarizes everything that has happened these past few days of hell and havoc. And now since I've become a threat to him (if he defines me as a threat in his opinion), he decides that the best thing to do to make matters worse is to pen me down on his "To Do" list. The "To Do" list, of course, meaning "Okay, who will be the next to die?" or "So who will be my next psychopath?" Ugh. The way it sounds to me is completely repulsive.

Six days later after the tragic shooting at Gotham City High School, the entire city was put on pause to reflect over the incident, to honor those that passed away tragically — students and teachers, school security and individuals from the streets who risked their lives so they could save the school. It was all over the news — GCN had been given the whole tour of the school and the aftermath other than the foreign news channels that weren't from Gotham City. For days, they reported on the school shooting, and summarized the timeline of the even from the first morning class to the aftermath.

All I knew was this: The Joker was the ringleader, and to make things worse for everyone — he managed to get away. I wondered for the time being how he was able to successfully get past Batman, since I remembered seeing The Joker getting attacked by him when David escorted me out of the school. How did The Joker plan this, and believed he would be successful in the end?

My father had told me after I returned home that day Batman had been shot — I knew that of course — and it was probably the reason why The Joker was able to escape from Batman's hands. He was probably too weak to fight back; if I were in his shoes I'd probably feel the same way, and wouldn't have been able to stop The Joker in his tracks. Obviously I felt bad for the poor guy. Who wouldn't? He returned after hiding for months, and Gotham felt a bit more confident in him that he would return to his duties as being the hero. After this incident though, with The Joker getting away, I wouldn't doubt Gotham felt a bit sorry for him.

After the school shooting, Jr. was shaken to bits. A) because his friends were dead and B) The Joker was about to kill him. He started having trouble concentrating on his daily life routine of playing Playstation and chilling with his friends after school. He just wasn't himself. I've tried doing my best comforting him, and still he wasn't in his state of mind.

What surprised me, though, was that six days later he started being himself again. And here's why: Jr. had a close friend in middle school, a girl named Fawn Bryce. I've seen her before many times when she used to come by and visit us. By eighth grade she and her parents moved out of the city because of the crime rate, and subsided in a rural town in the upper part of New York, where she would attend a different school and meet different friends. We lost contact with her after that —that is until Jr. received a call from her on his cell phone. She heard about the school shooting and was wondering if he was doing all right; well, he told her about it, and she was completely shocked that he lost all of his friends in the shooting. The phone call went on for hours — I witnessed it by peeking into his bedroom — and Jr. seemed happy that he was able to talk to an old friend.

Purposively, she wanted to come and see Jr., but he advised it'd be best for her to stay where she was since Gotham was in turmoil. I couldn't agree more. She didn't need to see all of this.

I started to see Jr. smile again as he said good-bye to her over the phone and hung up by pressing the end button on his phone. I scuttled back away from the door when he approached and opened it with his free hand. He stepped out and saw me leaning against the wall with my arms crossed.

"Who was that?" I asked, even though I knew it was Fawn.

He grinned. "Oh, it was Fawn. Do you remember her when I was in seventh grade?"

I nodded. "Of course! She was such a sweetheart."

"Well, she heard about the incident and wanted to check up on me."

"That was nice of her."

"Yeah." He rubbed the back of his neck. "She wanted to come and visit, but I told her to stay home because of the recent crimes shaking this city apart."

"I don't blame you for telling her." I said in agreement.

He still held a smile on his face as he talked more about Fawn. "She still wants to see me, so I many go visit her sometime this week."

I encouraged him since he needed a break from this mess. "You should! Does she have any plans coming up this week?"

"She said she might be attending her Junior Prom since one of her guy friends can't attend."

"Then go as her date, Jr."

He laughed. "I don't want to think of it as a boyfriend and girlfriend thing, though."

"She wouldn't mind having you go as a friend."

"Yeah." He sighed. He let his hands sit at his hips. "I think I will then." He picked up his phone again and started dialing Fawn's number. When he placed it against his ear he began talking through the phone and slowly walked back into his room, shutting the door behind. His voice trailed once he was in his bedroom.

"Hey Fawn. It's Jr…"

I smiled. It's good to know Jr. _still_ had a friend even if they were cities apart. He needs the time alone with his long lost friend and to hook up on the latest of their teenage hood, rather than talk about what's been going on in Gotham.

I saw my dad walking up the stairs by the time I maneuvered for my bedroom. He looked rather pleasant today than he did days ago. Maybe it was because of Jr. reconnecting with Fawn.

He walked up to me with both his hands together, his moustache twitched. "I see Jr. is reconnecting with Fawn after two years being apart."

"Yes." I said. "I guess Fawn wants to invite him to her Junior Prom."

"Wonderful." My dad rejoiced a little, not too much to show his girly manly side. "Is he going?"

"From the sounds of it…" I cocked my head at Jr's bedroom door.

My dad looked over my shoulder to see Jr's door cracked open a little; we could hear the conversation going on, and my father chuckled at the meaning of Jr's wits to ask Fawn out.

"He's asking her out." He chuckled. "Our boy has grown so much…" He pretended to wipe away a tear from his eye.

"Oh, dad." I whined. "It's not like he's done this once. I remember he used to ask a whole bunch of girls to dances."

"Well, none of them were like Fawn."

I dipped my head. "That's true."

My father also dipped his head down for a second until he had something else to say about Jr. "He really deserves this."

"I couldn't agree more." I said.

After, I heard Jr. walking out of his bedroom again and towards us; he turned off his phone when he approached my dad. The look in his eyes made me smile.

"I'm going to Fawn's prom this week."

My father smiled. "That's great, Jr. Where is it being held?"

"At Wayne Manor. They finished rebuilding it."

A thought clicked inside my head. I remember Wayne Manor was burn down three years ago while I was in college; people said it was Bruce himself who destroyed his historic family mansion due to being under the influence at the time. I'm surprised they were able to rebuild it from the floor to roof — there was nothing left to the original, so they must have used resources in order to make the mansion look like it used to before it was turned into ashes.

Along with that, not only would Jr. being going to Wayne Manor, but he will be seeing the host, Bruce Wayne, once again. I admire Bruce a lot since he and my father were very close to each other these past few months. Even when I was around, he always was out in the public showing off in his 'silly' manner. Silly — meaning being laid back while surrounded by gorgeous girls his age, them flirting with him as though he were a king ruling all of Gotham. Well, he was from royalty — not king or queen royalty — but from a wealthy father who created his own enterprise.

It'd be nice to see Bruce again since the last time I saw him, which was only six days ago, we barely got to know what's been happening in our lives.

"Do you know if the prom committee is looking for a chaperone?" I asked Jr., who gave me an awkward glance when I mentioned _chaperone_.

He shrugged. "I would suppose so…"

My father interrupted him and said, "I like your idea, Babs."

"You do?" Jr. wondered.

"I feel much better when Babs is around you, knowing you would be safe."

Jr. turned his attention to me. "That's fine with me." He still looked a bit unsure if he liked the idea of having me as a chaperone for the prom.

"I can drive you and Fawn to the prom." I suggested. "It wouldn't even look like I'm a chaperone."

"Good then," Jr. giggled. "You can be the limousine driver slash butler."

I rolled my eyes at him. "Let's not go over the top, shall we?"

His laughter soon subsided, but his face still held onto the humor he had within him. "Sorry. But, sure."

**:: :: ::**

Two days later, and Jr. was all set and ready for Fawn's prom.

I was waiting down the stairs for him as he prepped up his white tux, adding his black tie in the end and tying his shiny black shoes into two big bows; he fixed the collar of his flannel shirt and crept down the stairs.

My mother, of course, was in tears seeing her own son ready for his first prom. She was balling her eyes out the entire time Jr. was walking down the stairs; she'd blow her nose into a tissue and start taking pictures of her lovely son in formal attire, she would squeal and well...the usual motherly stuff. Jr. wasn't the type of person who would dress up on occasion, and this day in particular he wouldn't have been all dabbed up in fancy looking clothes, cologne, and hair gel. He would go in jeans to his Junior or Senior prom if he wanted to.

He stepped down from the last step and approached mom, who then gave him a huge squishy hug. I could see he was struggling in his mother's hug.

"Mom," he mumbled, "you're squishing me."

"I'm sorry," she moped.

Inside my head I was laughing mentally.

Fawn had arrived then, she was dressed up in a lean gown that draped from her hips and made her body frame look like an hour glass. She had beautiful curly ashen hair, her eyes were sparkly, and her lips were a light pink that matched her cheekbone color. Her dress was light lavender, a bit sparkly as it reached the bottom, and it flowed with her movement whenever she walked. She looked like a goddess to me. I wish I had attended my Junior and Senior prom.

My parents took pictures of the lovely couple (aka friends) in the living room and out in our small backyard. During that time I got dressed as well in a black knee length dress. I fixed my hair by putting it up in a hair clip and made the dangling hair strands curl from the ends; I applied a little makeup and laced on my gold strapped shoes.

After I finished dabbing myself up, I waited in the living room for Jr. and Fawn to have their photo shoot done. A minute later they arrived, a bit pooped out from their photo shoot, but they looked happy that they were attending their first prom.

David was nice enough to give Jr. his 'lucky' ring band — he claims it has given him good luck whenever he was at a meeting or whatever guy things he does with his friends. Jr. thanked him and slid the ring on his ring finger.

I drove Jr. and Fawn to Wayne Manor after they got their pictures done; in the back of the car they were yapping away about events happening in their lives since they were apart. The yapping grew louder as I drove closer to Wayne Manor.

"Thank you, Barbara, for driving us." I heard Fawn say.

I smiled. "No problem."

Our family did like Fawn a lot. And there's proof why we do.

The front of Wayne manor was lavished in silver and white balloons, streamers, and glittering things all over. Hanging above the entrance was a glittery chandelier; it glistened on the guests as they entered the building, dancing on the marble stairwell like tiny ghosts. I pulled up to the front of the stairwell, and a man dressed in black took my keys to park the car in the back of the manor. We walked up the staircase and Jr. and Fawn were pulled aside to get their portrait taken. After, I lead them inside where the gigantic ballroom was alive with chatter and dancing.

It was a formal white prom, like the entrance there were balloons, chandeliers, streamers, and glittery things everywhere. Even the floor had a nice shine to it. There was even a disco ball hanging from the ceiling — Bruce likes to party I suppose.

Jr. and Fawn were enlightened by the beauty of the prom. They darted off right away while I stood alone by the doorway, sighing. Chaperoning isn't as fun as it looks, particularly if you're alone because you have no friend by your side. I was praying in my mind that Bruce would show up. But from the looks of it, it appeared he was hiding in his master bedroom, away from the yapping teens.

I sighed, and walked over to the fireplace that was glowing orange. A few feet away from it, I felt my body stiffen when my eyes crossed paths with a person leaning against the wooden frame of the fire pit.

Bruce Wayne. I smiled.

"Bruce," I called for him when he turned and saw me approaching him. He looked more than happy to see me, which by then he started to rush on his feet so he could see me. I felt his arms wrap around me in a welcoming hug.

"Hey, I didn't know you were chaperoning."

"I volunteered." I added.

He grinned a little. "We appreciate the help."

After, we were silent for a few seconds as the song faded in the background. Immediately the song changed over to a familiar tune of mine, which when it started playing I rolled my eyes and grounded on my teeth.

"Jr., you little dweeb."

"You don't like Depeche Mode?" Bruce asked.

I shook my head. "Oh, no, I _love_ Depeche Mode. He just likes to show it off."

Bruce then started to sing my favorite song, the one that was currently playing inside my head. I was laughing as he attempted to sing every single word of the song.

"_Words like violence, Break the silence, Come crashing in, Into my little world…"_

I felt like singing too, but knowing me well enough for these twenty so years I know for a fact I cannot sing. So I mentally sung the song in my head while Bruce continued to sing the song in perfection. He knew every word like a master conductor.

"_Painful to me, Pierce right through me, Can't you understand, Oh my little girl…"_

"I didn't know you like Depeche Mode." I wondered.

"I like the theme to it — it's very eighties."

"I agree." I said. I brushed back the strands of my hair from falling in my face.

Then, Bruce surprised me when he asked me a question that I consider out of the ordinary, since I've never been asked it before. Even David wouldn't have asked me this.

"Would you like to dance?" His unusual fake British accent made me laugh. He held out his hand in offering.

"Certainly." I replied.

I took his hand as he led me to the ballroom floor in the crowd of teenagers. I was thinking he would do that fancy dancing — you know the one when you spin in circles holding hands _romantically_ — well, again, he surprised me when he started dancing a bit differently than I imagined. He was kicking it to the beat of the music, swaying his hips back and forth like the teenagers were. With his elbows out he pumped his fists and shook his head.

I stood there stunned.

"Bruce, what are you doing?"

"Dancing. What did you think I was doing?" He asked me, confused.

"Well, I presumed you were going to do the rumba or something like that."

"Um, not really. I'm more into the beat and rhythm than ballroom dancing."

I laughed. "You've got such an inner child in you."

He looked up at me, and wondered what I meant. He was still smiling, but was a tad confused why I thought his dancing was childish. "Is it bad to have an inner child?"

I shook my head. "No. I'm just saying you're a child at heart. That is considered a good thing in life."

His smile grew wider. For a second he stopped to look at me. "Why aren't you dancing?"

"To be honest," I said, "I'm not a good dancer."

"I can teach you then." He advised. He straightened his back and stood beside me with his elbow touching mine. "Like I said, it's the beat and rhythm that helps me dance. Listen carefully to both of them."

He then started dancing to the beat again, his hips swayed and his arms jolted up and down while he pumped his fists like everyone else was to the current tempo of the music. I watched his carefully as I attempted to dance; taking my time, I started off with swaying my hips, and then I pumped my fists the songs beat grew louder. I started to get my _groove_ then, although I can't be certain if it was a good groove or not.

Bruce twisted his torso a couple of times, watching me dance beside him.

"See? You've got the groove."

I felt my face scrutinize. "I thought we were supposed to be chaperoning?"

"There's no law that states we can't dance."

Okay, I was feeling a little embarrassed because my dancing was not that great overall, but I could tell Bruce was enjoying it because I was getting involved with the kids. He liked being around them, part of the reason why he's sociable. And he liked that I was letting my groovy side out.

I let out a soft chuckle. "Okay, I guess I am having a little fun after all."

He smiled, and then held out his hand again. "Here — let me show you something." I held his hand, and then we both started spinning. He stopped on his own feet while I continued to spin on my toes; he held my hand up in the air above my head, I fell into his chest and he wrapped his arms around my waist in an embraced hug.

I caught myself from falling when Bruce let go of me, but still was holding my hand. "Sorry. I'm still a bit dizzy after that."

"No worries." He said, and spun next to me, landing in my chest. Suddenly, I felt him stumbling back as though he tripped on his own feet, and was falling in my direction. His back hit me, and we both fell to the floor with a light _thud_. I blinked, and found myself on the floor with Bruce on top of me.

It took us a moment to catch our breath, and eventually by that time we were laughing.

"I guess I had overdone it." Bruce giggled.

Jr. and Fawn were not far from us when we were dancing, and I suppose they had seen Bruce and I fall, the reason why they looked shocked at the moment when they stumbled up to us to get us up from the floor. Jr. held his hand out to help Bruce get off of me, as Fawn did the same for me. Once we were up, Jr. sounded as though he were embarrassed that his sister had fallen in front of a whole bunch of people.

His cheeks were a light pink under the soft light — he _was_ embarrassed. I laughed mentally inside my head, while trying to keep my poker face on.

"You two are a bunch of kids." I heard a voice from behind Jr. Turns out the person behind Jr. was Alfred, Bruce's butler — and a fatherly figure to him.

I smiled as Alfred approached, and embraced him in a huge hug.

"Alfred!"

"It's good to see you, Miss Gordon." Alfred said. His warm hug made my heart flutter inside my chest. He leaned back to examine my face once more. "Welcome back to Gotham — and you still look as beautiful as you used to when you were a teeny adult."

"Thank you," I said, pushing my hair away. I felt my cheeks flare up in warmth.

I wanted to say more to Alfred, ask him how things have been since my departure, and so much more — but my voice was then overridden by a sound I _didn't_ want to hear particularly at this time when things were calm and pleasant for everything. I had prayed since the beginning of this event that nothing would interrupt everyone's fun, but even my own wishes can't be granted.

There was another sound made — a gunshot — that echoed in the ballroom. Everyone stiffened in their place, their eyes broadened in worry, and the entire ballroom went silent; their reactions were nonetheless familiar to what I've seen at the school shooting, like their hearts were stricken by a plague they once had overcome. And now, their worst fears had come true.

My head cocked on the direction everyone seemed to be looking at. Although I couldn't see clearly the people whom were shooting off their guns, I could hear their voices as easy as hearing a penny fall from miles away. The back of my throat formed a lump when one familiar voice entered my thoughts.

_No. Please._ I begged inside my head. _Please, not him._

"I apologize for the sudden announcement," The Joker said, "But I'm here for a reason."

I noticed that Bruce's lips were fumbling as he watched The Joker enter from one end of the ballroom. His lips, though, made out words I could hear him whisper out.

"I thought I kicked that guy's ass days ago?" He whispered to Alfred, who noticed that I was hearing their conversation and hushed Bruce by nudging at his shoulder.

"I think the whole audience can hear you." He mumbled through his teeth.

Bruce's eyes widened when he spotted me inclining closer to him. "I mean — what a jackass." He corrected himself. He carefully slid past Alfred so that The Joker couldn't see him get away. "I'll be back."

Bruce pushed through a few people and blended in with the crowd; you could hardly tell he was escaping, which made things quite well for Bruce to do whatever he was planning to do. Maybe he was going to find security, or whatever the hell he had in mind. For all I care he could call Batman to whoop The Joker's ass again.

I watched the silent crowd shake in horror.

"I thought Batman caught him or something?" Jr. whispered into my ear.

I tilted my head to the side to whisper back to him. "Well, dad doesn't like to tell you certain things…"

He groaned, and lowered his head in exasperation. "He _would_ do that."

"Of course he would. He likes to cover things up." I pointed out.

"I told you dad's a liar," he moaned at me. He put some emphasis on his next statement, trying to act sarcastic. "But, _no_, you didn't believe me."

"Jr., I've known that before you could even talk." I hissed back at him, without having to draw too much attention from the crowd.

Fawn stepped in between our feud; her hands were extended out to push back on our chests to prevent us from attacking each other like blood thirsty coyotes. She gave us both a glare, and in frustration, she hissed under her breath. "You two stop it or else we'll be killed."

Jr. cocked his head at her. "I think that _was_ The Joker's plan in the first place, Fawn."

My eyes darted at a goon who was not far from us. Cradling in his hands was a lean gun, ready to be fired in case somebody was talking while The Joker was. His attention was drawn to me, as though he recognized me from somewhere, but shook his head in doubt. When Jr. and Fawn were having their little fit, the goon could easily hear them. He took a step forward, before being blocked by a few kids whom were in his way. My eyes widened and I turned to Fawn, who was about to blow fumes out of her head when Jr. reminded her the whole shenanigans was all part of The Joker's devilish plans.

She rolled her eyes at Jr., and her voice grew louder by the millisecond. "Thanks for the update-"

My hand covered her mouth immediately just before the goon could hear her fuming. I hushed her by placing a finger to my mouth in indication of her talking, and she comprehended it with a nod.

It felt like hours that Bruce had disappeared from me, it made me worried.

_Where in the world are you, Bruce?_

A tall teenager, with short brown hair and a small jaw line approached The Joker with a question.

"What do you want with us?"

The Joker chuckled softly. "What do I want from _you_ guys? Well, isn't that quite obvious?" The gun made a _clink_ sound when he adjusted the barrel. "I'm looking for a certain someone who's in this room at this very moment and is trying to keep me from ripping Gotham to bits."

He strolled past a few kids whom were shaking from head to toe; he fixed the gun at them, but didn't place his finger on the trigger.

"I was hoping you kiddos might help me find this certain person, and if you do, I won't hurt any of you."

Jr. glanced up at me with a puppy eyes expression. "Babs," he whispered, "I think he's talking about you."

Shit. He was right.

"Okay," I mumbled under my breath, trying to keep my cool. "Let's no try to overreact…"

"What do you mean, 'let's not overreact?' He's trying to hunt you down!"

"I _know_ that."

"I'd be pissing my pants if I were you." He whispered.

I shot my eyes at him. "That wasn't really necessary, but I get your point." Again, I put my finger up to my lips to hush him down. He did as told.

Another kid, who was standing right behind Jr., asked The Joker, "Who are we looking for?"

The Joker turned towards the person who asked the question — in my direction of course. My teeth were clattering in my mouth when he drew his attention near me; I had only seconds to think about what I was going to do then. An imaginary light bulb flickered above my head. I slipped underneath Jr., who hidden my image by standing in front of me, and knelt down, on my knees to hide from The Joker.

The Joker's jacket flagged as he walked by, and stood in front of the teenager who had spoke.

"I'll give you a hint." He answered. "It's one of the Commissioner's kids."

Worry struck my face.

I knew it. I knew it.

"Miss Gordon," Alfred whispered.

I turned my head, and noticed Alfred was holding something hidden in his black suit. He slowly revealed a gun with a wooden butt. It was fancy looking, probably over thirty years old, and it looked like it hadn't been used for years. It could have been Alfred's gun as a result of the style, it looked like an antique of his. His hand reached for mine, and he placed the gun lightly in my clutch.

"I think you might need this." He advised me, the corner of his mouth curled into a smile.

I cradled it against my chest and smiled back at him. "Thank you, Alfred."

I shot my eyes back at The Joker, who was now looking around the place — for me purposively — the expression he held was nonetheless frightening as usual. He looked like he was ready to murder someone on the spot. That's nothing unusual. His chiseled grin gave me the chills every time he turned his head in my direction, as if he wanted to smile at me, proving he was right about everything he has ever said to me. You know, like the 'I told you so' stare.

God, this guy made me sick to my stomach. He would do that just to get me all fired up, and to get underneath my skin; the last time he did I went nuts. I didn't want to imagine the same scenario again, and each time I glared at The Joker my mind projected the same scene when I attacked The Joker with my blood hands. I kept on seeing the same image of The Joker on the ground, grinning like the Chester cat from Alice in Wonderland, my bloody covered hands hovering In front of my face…

Inside my stomach, the butterflies were accumulating.

_Just shoot him like last time_, my brain responded.

I approved the thought with a mental nod, and fixed the gun where The Joker was standing.

Suddenly, there was a loud roar, and a hand was in view. It reached down from where my gun was positioned, and it pushed it away right when my finger caressed the trigger.

I cocked my head to my right, and there was Batman in full uniform, flying at me like a missile. _"DON'T!"_

All I knew was little Jiminy Cricket — aka my conscious — that had been sitting on my shoulder since the beginning of the Prom was really pissed at me. I could hear his voice enter my mind like hot steam.

_Great, that blows your cover._ _Good luck trying to hide again._

I groaned back at the green imaginary cricket._ Thank you for your wonderful and helpful support, conscious._

My body flung back and hit the floor, and made a sound as though the floor cracked in two. The Joker _did_ see this, and looked rather happy about it. I rubbed the back of my head from hitting the floor, and caught myself off guarded when Batman ripped the gun out of my hands and threw it at a goon who was running at us. He tripped over it and fell face first on the floor.

Batman kept on tugging at my arm to get me up — man, he doesn't know how to be gentle, doesn't he? — He was strong enough to pull me up and drag me out of the ballroom at the same time when The Joker had spotted me running.

And I was right, he _was_ happy to see me. That's because _I_ was the reason he was the party crasher.

He suddenly pushed the kid aside and charged through the crowd, flagging down two other goons to follow him.

"Damn it," I mumbled.

I shook Batman's grip around my wrist, and when I did he turned around and grimaced at me. "Shooting someone isn't the answer to everything."

"Well then what the hell _should_ I do then?"

I followed him down a hallway which opened up to another huge room similar to the ballroom, except it wasn't lavished with balloons and streamers. He stopped right in the middle to scan out the place, and spotted a staircase from his left. He waved at me as an indication to follow him. Right on cue, a goon popped out from the hallway we came from and pointed his gun at us; Batman flagged past me, his arm extended out so that the razors on his wrists would knock him out. The goon flung backwards and hit the floor with the gun topping on top on him.

Batman spun on the balls of his feet to turn to me. "Get up the stairs and hide."

I nodded, and ran for the staircase. I was like a rocket when I reached the first step, I didn't care if I missed a step of two, I just leaped from every other step as a way to get to the top faster. I nearly tripped on one of them, but I recovered when I pushed off with my hands. On the final step I leaped, and both my feet planted on the tiled floor underneath.

I started running again, down another hallway and around the curve until I felt my whole body smack into a hard wall. I fell back and landed on my tailbone. The pain had hit me then.

_That's what you get for not listening to me._ My conscious told me with a strict tone.

_Shut up_, I shouted back.

Again, I recovered from my fall by pushing up from my feet to get up. I felt a bit light headed after the accident, but I knew I'd be fine until I found a hiding place Batman told me a while ago. When my vision finally cleared up after the blurriness, I found myself standing in front of a wooden door that was open a little. I kicked at the bottom for the door to open, a bed was seen sitting in the middle of the room. Around the headboard of the bed were picture frames of Bruce with his mother and father sitting in front of a tree, another picture had only Bruce holding onto his stuffed teddy bear.

_This must be Bruce's room._ I thought.

I crept inside the bedroom without making a sound, and glanced around. The walls were a bluish-gray with white trimming on the window and floor frame. There was a mahogany desk sitting beside his walk in closet, on top of it were files and papers evenly displayed in a neat pile. His bed sheets were nicely spread out on the bed. The room was simple, something I'd wish my room was like. A bit of jealousy flowed through my head.

_If only I were like Bruce Wayne_, I laughed mentally in my mind.

My thoughts were interrupted by a disturbing sound coming from below where Batman was fighting off a goon. The sound continued from the stairwell to the hallway, in which my mind went into panic mode. A hiding place was the only thing I could debate about.

_Okay, Barbara, find a hiding place before your ass gets whooped._

I glanced back at the bed for a second until I thought of the idea of hiding underneath. The bed sheets were long enough to cover up my feet from poking out. I knelt down on my knees and crawled underneath the sheets until I managed to squeeze myself through, bringing up my knees to my waist and positioned myself to face away from the bottom of the head board, right where I could visibly see the closed door from a crack opening in the sheets. My breathing went still and I made sure my feet and any other body part was sticking out from underneath the bed.

My eyes were fixed on the door as the noise grew louder.

I saw the door swing open and my breathing went completely silent; it made a cracking sound when it hit the wall. A pair of feet entered the room: sneakers covered in filth that made marks on the wooden floor, the goons were wearing jeans so my mind was at peace for a moment when I realized none of them were wearing any purple pants, meaning The Joker was not in the room at the time.

I heard them scavenging the room like beasts.

"Check out the closet." One of them said. I heard the closet door open, and the goons entered inside. Articles of clothing landed on the floor beside their feet, clothing hangers were thrown down like fire crackers. I winced each time a coat hanger fell to the wooden floor. The metal made a noise each time it hit the floor, familiar to when you'd hold a ruler at the end of a table and pull down on the end hard enough to make it vibrate; it was that kind of noise except the metal sounded more disturbing than a ruler.

Come to think of it, my mind seemed disturbing at the moment. I'm thinking of rulers and metal objects for crying out loud, and the only thing metal that crossed my mind was The Joker's knife. Speaking of which, I didn't see The Joker come into the bedroom...

That is, until my mind couldn't shut up about him; I felt my whole body stiffen when I heard his voice.

"Where the hell is she?" He asked one of the goons who stepped out of the closet to speak to him. My face was pressed lightly on the floor so I could get a better view of the men talking.

The goon shook his head. "We think she came into this room." A jacket flung out of the closet from being thrown from a goon inside. "But we haven't found her yet."

I pushed myself closer to the opening of the bedsheets to get another good look of the two men staring at each other. The Joker didn't seem happy overall – probably because the goons weren't doing enough in their search. If I were him I'd probably be pissed. He looked straight into the eyes of the goon, melancholy seen all over his face.

"Well then," The Joker mumbled, then suddenly clenched his fingers on the guys throat. His voice was fierce. "Look _harder_. It shouldn't be _that_ hard finding a broad in this room."

_What the hell did he just call me?_ My mind shouted.

"Joker," someone said from behind The Joker's back. I could only see him from the waist down, but he looked like a thug to me, one of The Joker's goons possibly. "This kid tried to strangle one of the guys downstairs. I thought you should see for yourself."

Suddenly, he turned to his side and whipped out a kid from outside the room. My mouth went completely dry and my heart started to beat rapidly, realizing the kid he had confiscated from downstairs was my brother. My mind shouted even more: _Jr_! The words almost spilled out from my mouth that I forced my hand to cover my mouth from saying any more.

Jr. looked not as frightened as he did when the school shooting happened. He almost looked like he was ready to kill The Joker in front of everyone, but of course he knew that would be impossible since The Joker had more men who could take him down anytime he wished. That was one of his drawbacks to his supposed plan – _if_ he had a plan or he just wanted to show off in front of Fawn, who surprisingly wasn't with him. Maybe she didn't get caught. Or they could have killed her when Jr. attacked. The expression on Jr.'s face didn't appear to show if Fawn was harmed, so I could be over worrying about nothing.

The Joker produced a knife from his pocket and held it up to Jr.'s face. "You like to cause trouble, don't you?"

Jr. was silent, but looked like he had a courage badge pinned to his chest, as a way to show it he stiffened his back and faced The Joker without a look of fear seen in his eyes.

"I mean — I understand you're a teenager and teenagers do get rowdy when they're older. I was like that myself when I was your age." The Joker looked up at the ceiling as though he were in deep thought. "However," he licked his bottom lip, "when it comes to being so rowdy that it affects my guys, meaning you'd do whatever to protect your sister whether it is by self defense or injuring — even _killing_ — one of my colleagues, I _don't_ like it."

Jr's lips fumbled, and he suddenly curtailed The Joker's statement. "What the hell do you want with my sister?"

The Joker grabbed his throat, causing Jr. to squirm like a worm on a hook. His breathing was cut short when The Joker's grip grew tighter and tighter on his throat, it turned pale from the pressure being held in The Joker's hand. I wanted to dart out from underneath and knock The Joker over to save from brother from being hurt; doing so would mean I'd be risking my life than what Jr. was doing at the moment. I promised my dad I would save Gotham from turning inside out, so my safety wasn't a priority when it comes to my brother's life being threatened.

"What I want from your sister is not any of your business." He hissed.

"To hell with that! Whatever your plan is _I'll_ do it for you — I don't want my sister involved."

The Joker jerked his head to the side while still glaring at Jr. in question. "You really do mean that."

Jr. nodded.

"Okay then, I can make you a deal." He tossed his knife on the floor, and it slid underneath the bed right in front of my face. I could see The Joker and Jr's reflection coming off of the knife.

"Your father has some files on his computer that I need dearly. I know your sister is good with computer — word of mouth — but I suppose you are good with them too." He produced another object from his pocket, and put it in Jr's hands. "Go into your father computer and take out _all_ of the original files and put them on this USB thumb drive — not a single file is left behind."

"Do you realize my father's computer is heavily protected by the Crime's Unit?"

"Yes, I would have guess that — exactly the reason why I wanted your sister to do the job."

Jr. held onto the object and formed a fist with the same hand. Looking down at his hand, he sighed, and said, "I'll do it. But I need something in return."

_Don't Jr!_ I mentally shouted.

"What will that be?" The Joker asked him, hinting a smile on his white plastered face.

"Leave my sister and my family alone." He pleaded. "That is all I ask of you. If I do this, you will never harm anyone — my parents, my sister, my friend…" — Fawn was his only friend as of now — "What do you think?"

The Joker bit on his lip and mused about it. "I would have suggested something else…but I guess that's fair enough."

"What _would_ have you suggested?"

The Joker's scars lifted up. "I'm starting to like your sister a lot, and I would really like to know her a bit more…"

My eyes broadened. God, I hope he isn't thinking what I am thinking. That sick bastard; I really wanted to strangle him.

"Luckily you've already agreed to my idea, cause there is no way in hell I'd let you get flirty with Babs—"

The Joker looked taken aback by Jr's comment. "I wasn't talking about a _relationship_." The Joker laughed.

I sighed in relief.

"When do you want this?" Jr. asked.

"Hopefully by the end of the day tomorrow."

"Fine then." Jr. groaned, and placed the thumb drive into his pants pocket.

Suddenly, The Joker wrapped his arms around his shoulders; Jr. looked uncomfortable at the moment due in part The Joker seemed to be earnest for having Jr. do the job for him without having to track me down like a pesticide expert trying to kill off the last cockroach on earth. He gave him a little squeeze and added a smile.

"Wonderful." The Joker rejoiced. "I appreciate the help — oh, and if your sis wonders what you're up to, just say it's for a _friend_." He removed his arm around Jr., and reached down to pick up his knife. I slid back so that he wouldn't see me, and luckily he didn't; after picking up his knife he flagged down his goons to follow him out of the bedroom. They were out of the room within seconds, and it went silent.

Jr. didn't like the last part he had quoted. The Joker was not a friend — come to think of it — The Joker wasn't a human being. He was a monster, a disease, someone or something that could easily slide through the cracks of people's lives and make them corrupt. Jr. is at the brink of being corrupted if he doesn't pay attention.

Especially now, he _shouldn't_ corrupt.

My head tilted up, and from above I had forgotten bed frames were made of wood (or metal), so instead of getting out from underneath the bed silently my head hit the frame with a loud _thunk_. Oh boy, did it hurt like hell.

"Ow!" I moaned, and rubbed the bruised spot on the tippy top of my head.

I heard Jr.'s feet move towards the end of the bed, his hands grabbed the sheets and pushed them side and when he looked at me his eyes widened. "Babs? How long have you've been down there?"

I groaned, "Longer than you can imagine."

He laughed, and his hand extended out to reach for mine. "Need some help?"

I nodded as Jr. pulled my weight out from underneath the bed, and helped me up by placing a hand on my back to support me from falling. My knees were buckled together prior to my body being all tensed up from being in a fetal position for over ten minutes. When the rest of my muscles relaxed, I felt relieved. I stretched out my back with my arms extended out.

Never again will I hide underneath a bed.

I cocked my head at Jr. who looked a bit worried this time than he did when he confronted The Joker face to face. "Are you okay, Jr?"

There came little response from the teenager, just a head tilted to his right when I asked him if he was feeling okay.

"I don't know," he sighed. "I feel like an idiot for making a deal with The Joker."

"You don't have to do it." I advised him, trying to make him fell a little better. "I can do that if you want."

"Please, Babs. If I don't do what was asked of me he will kill you."

"I don't give a damn."

"No. I made a promise — shouldn't I be the one to keep that promise?"

"But when it's your life at stake _I_ don't allow it." I thought about Fawn for a second and asked, "How is Fawn?"

"She's fine. I told her to stay back with the rest of the kids so she wouldn't be killed." He looked back from where The Joker and his goons exited. "What the hell are we going to do, Babs?"

Even I was a bit dumbfounded by his point.

**:: :: ::**

When it comes to protecting your brother from a maniac, shouldn't be the one to do whatever it takes to make it happen such as risking all that's been laid out for you, or even sacrificing everything you've lived for? Let me tell you, it's not an easy question to answer, because even I fear for my own life. I'd do anything in my will power to not only protect Jr. and myself.

I thought of that question as I drove Jr. and Fawn home that evening after the riot at the prom. Fawn stayed overnight with by sleeping in the guest bedroom — originally David's spot — David decided to bunk in with me and slept the whole night on the floor inside his sleeping bag. (I offered him my bed, but he said he was manly enough to sleep on the floor.) Through the night the same question Jr. asked me projected in my mind: What am I going to do? What am I going to do in order to keep my family and myself safe?

I was probably sleepwalking, but the entire time my mind was alive with questions as I walked back and forth through the hallway; I had trouble sleeping and keeping my mind quiet since it likes to debate on problems in the middle of the night. It's common for most people to have trouble sleeping because their mind is active with questions and concerns about a problem from the day before or the next day — my mind though could not shut up.

_What are you going to do, Babs?_

In this kind of scenario I'd be suffering through insomnia for days. Today was the start of insomnia I'll be suffering for quite some time until I'd settle things out with Jr., hopefully to get him agree to my plan. That plan was to get the files from my father's computer. Let me handle the dirty work, bro. Yet, he couldn't put his hands down all together.

Probably if I don't tell him things will be fine.

Jr.'s door was open when I approached his bedroom. He was snuggled up in bed with the sheets covering his head, almost like a butterfly in its cocoon. Sitting on top of his bedside table was the USB port The Joker had given him. I reached out to grab it, and successfully placed it in my hands when Jr. didn't wake up.

My father's computer is always located in his office where he usually subsides in when he's had a rough day at the crimes unit. It was _his_ paradise in his terms; since The Joker first got loose a year ago he's always felt safe in that room. It's always been that way since I was around, but from what he tells me it's now his bomb shelter.

I crept down the stairs and turned the corner to where his office was located. When I got inside I carefully closed the door shut without making a noise to disturb my parent's sleep. His computer was on sleep mode when I shook the mouse, and once it clicked out of sleep mode the computer screen lit up the room with a bluish tinted color. I sat down in his chair, produced the thumb drive out of my sweatpants pocket, and pushed the object into the USB port into the computer tower below my feet. An empty window popped up, indicating the USB was empty.

As I mentioned before, my father's computer has always been heavily protected by the crimes unit, due in part for security reasons. Surely, on the bottom of the screen was the security software blinking. Anything that would break into my father's computer would send off a signal to the Gotham Crime's Unit and cause havoc for everyone.

From what I learned in college the only way to barricade through the firewall is to enter in a command prompt through the computer (and of course these command prompts used at crime units and FBI are very secretive, so I can't even tell my father these codes.) I opened the menu and searched for the Command Prompt option, another window popped up with a black screen and white text. I entered in the code, and without a second to spare the code completely shut down the security wall that had been protecting my father's computer.

I sighed, and opened up another window as I began to search for whatever The Joker wants. I came across one folder that had to do with criminals, and it made me rather curious, so I clicked it and the window showed a whole bunch of files indicating criminals the Gotham Police force caught from recent events.

_These are files on criminals' identities!_ My mind shouted.

My heart raced.

Maybe that was what The Joker wants: his file off of my dad's computer.

I dragged the white arrow across the screen to scroll down the window sidebar to find The Joker's suppose file. There were some files that were unnamed, so they were called "Unknown" with a number beside it. I didn't realize it'd be this hard to find The Joker's file; well, he has no name, so of course that is a drawback to the plan.

I clicked on every file for clues on the whereabouts of The Joker's mysterious file, until I clicked on the twentieth file there was a PDF document labeled with the same name as the folder "Unknown 4479." The PDF loading bar opened up and seconds later a ten page document appeared, given the name at the top of the page "Unknown 4479." No date of birth, no hometown, no age – the entire document had nothing on the person.

"This must be The Joker's page."I whispered under my breath.

I scrolled down the document some more and my finger which was on the scroll button of the mouse stopped all of a sudden when my eyes met an inexplicable page: it was an obituary.

_Jeannie_ it read in the title. The last name was blurred (or scratched) out by a black smudge from a lead pencil, the reason why it was inapplicable to read.

_Was this The Joker's wife?_ I wondered.

The obituary briefly talked about Jeannie as a loving wife to a husband, whose name for some reason was not documented in the article – I could be overlooking it for all I care, and that I didn't see his name the first time around – she died young, only in her late twenties and she and her husband were expecting a child that year. It sounded so depressing to be in the man's shoes, losing his wife and child at the same time.

I exited out of the PDF and dragged the file into the USB's window screen. There was nothing left in the original file from where I copied the PDF. I went back into the menu options and put the computer back to sleep, pulled out the USB and placed it back into my pocket; the monitor dimmed and went completely black afterward as I walked out of my father's office and carefully closed the door behind me.

In my mind, I started to ponder about the outcome to this whole ordeal my brother was in.

_There's nothing to be afraid of_, my mind said to me. _At least your brother doesn't have to worry about it anymore._

Of course, but what I was doing was probably crazy. I mean – who would be crazy enough to do a dirty deed for The Joker? I would.

_Even the sanest people can turn into the craziest people on this planet._

That was what The Joker warned me days ago, that people like me can suddenly change — and the overall outcome to it isn't that pleasing to the eyes. _But I'm not like that_, I mentally told myself, _I'm not even that close to being exactly like The Joker._

My conscious emerged from my subsided thoughts originally from the prom. _But what you're doing is not normal for Barbara Gordon._

Standing alone in the living room, my conscious kept on talking to me as thought it were a real person who was talking to me face to face.

_Babs, what you're doing may be even more risky than letting your brother get hurt by him if he_ hadn't_ done it. God knows what this man is actually thinking inside his insane mind __—__ he knows you'll crack if something goes terribly wrong with your plan. Isn't that what The Joker does for a living?_

Yes, he does. But do I really care? I'd much rather have Jr. safe and sound in his comfy bed than end up strangled in the gloved hands of The Joker. Isn't the big sister or brother _supposed_ to be the guardian for their little bro or sis?

My conscious went silent right afterward — it probably gave up since it couldn't convince me to listen to him.

I have to do it; otherwise it'll be useless to keep Gotham safe as well as my family.

I went into the bathroom and picked out one of my pants that were neatly folded along with my other clothes washed a day earlier, and slid on a black short sleeved t-shirt with a V neck, pulled my hair back into a tight ponytail and kicked off my slippers in replacement for my Nike sneakers. After changing quickly I strolled back to the living room to the key ring hanger where my car keys hung off one of the brass hangers. I plucked them off, and slipped through the open front door.

My conscious seemed to have come back to give his final thoughts before my plan was put into action. _This _plan_ of yours better be worth wile._

_It will be,_ I told it. _It will be._

I closed the car door, shoved the key into the ignition and the car roared to life as I pressed on the gas pedal lightly and slowly pulled out from the curb. My eyes looked back at the house.

_Hopefully_, I added to my statement. _Hopefully, it does work._

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**Sorry it took me a while to upload this. The past week has been a bit busy for me (stripping down my wallpaper and washing the walls isn't an easy job when you prep your room for repainting.)**

**I have a feeling something is going to happen in the next chapter. XD Dun, dun, dun…**

**Review my lovely minions. Buahahaha.**

**:)**


	6. Chapter 6: Making a Commitment

**Several back aching days later, Caitlyn was able to complete this chapter after a long week of pain from painting her bedroom walls with a paintbrush and a roller. Finally! (At least she got some help.) C:**

**Again, as a reminder, there is a 3****rd**** person point of view at the beginning and middle of the chapter so that it doesn't confuse you as to why the point of views changes all of a sudden.**

**I'd appreciate feedback on the story so that I can conjure some ideas in the future, cause I'm a bit stuck from where I want Barbara to end up later on in this story. (And of course, the extreme makeover bedroom edition had been on my mind all week so I'm burnt out.)**

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**Chapter VI**

Sal Maroni was living the life as most wealthy men would when they're loaded with cash and girls. Sitting at his favorite restaurant in Gotham City was one of his daily duties — meeting with men and agreeing on plans for the future. These were mob men, though, he were making deals with, for he was a mob dealer himself. Did he give a damn if he were to cause trouble with these men? Probably not.

He just liked to rub his money into people faces, because he liked the reaction they'd get when they realize how powerful he was in all of Gotham. The Chechen of course wasn't what you would call a fine dining kind of person — he'd much rather spend his time in the alleyways eating off of the homeless, whatever they had left from food to booze. Yet, his ideal life was like Maroni's. Money. Money. Money.

_Who really gives a damn now_? Maroni wondered in his mind, _The Joker had dealt with him for once __—__ I won't have to be seeing that man's face around anymore._

Inside his head, Maroni was mentally laughing due to the fact the Chechen was indeed as dead as any man would come to matter.

Lounging in the leather booth, he arched his feet on the table clothed covered table and slowly raised his arms behind his head, as a brunette Russian woman sitting next to him rested her head against his shoulder. Maroni always had beautiful woman with him whenever he went out to clubs or to catch some grub at his favorite restaurant. This one in particular always gave him the…well, the goods.

A man approached Maroni with a straight face. His goatee bobbled as he spoke to him. "Maroni, there's someone here who wants to speak to you."

Maroni nodded in response. As the man walked away to bring the person in, he squared his shoulders when he saw the person walk in. It was a woman with a reddish-brown tone in her hair, her jaw line was round and pointed at the end of her chin.

"Barbara Gordon," He smiled. "I didn't know you were still in Gotham."

Barbara's cheeks turned a light pink. "I just came back after graduating from college."

"What degree did you get?"

"Masters in the arts of criminal justice and technology related. Basically, I have the talent for hacking into computers."

Maroni let out a soft chuckle. "Sounds to me you have a good job in the Major Crimes Unit with the Gotham Police Force."

"I don't really have a job with them, _yet_, but hopefully soon if I'm helping my father deal with the latest in Gotham City."

A smile hinted on Maroni's face, and he let his feet drop to the floor as he straightened his back. "You'd make a good member in the crimes unit." He cupped his hands. "Now, how may I help you out, Barbara?"

Barbara slowly walked up to him as Maroni offered her a seat at the table. She quickly sat down and fixed her fallen hair by pushing it back behind her ear.

"I have a bit of a dilemma — well, not just me but my brother as well." She squared her shoulders as she sighed. "My brother made a deal with The Joker hours ago that if he could get some important files off of our father's computer he won't cause trouble for us — my family personally. I didn't want my brother to do it so I did the deed of getting the files for him" — She produced a USB thumb drive from out of her pocket — "and now I need to find The Joker as soon as possible so he can get his assignment."

Maroni grinned, his teeth flashed through his smile. "It does appear you are in quite a dilemma."

"Yes," she groaned. "I'd figure since you know the mob as well as my father does, would you know where this man is?"

"I can give you some details on his location; nevertheless they change on a daily basis." Maroni said, giving her the hints of his warn. "Now, I've dealt with this man before, long ago before you came back — he is not an easy man to find because he likes to change his routes when he's being followed. What I can tell you is this: what you're doing may cost you your life if you don't do the job right."

He gestured with his hands flailed out. "Take the Chechen for example, did the deeds as told, split the money in half for him, yet, The Joker kills him."

Barbara shook at the example Maroni brought up.

"The Joker is a man who can change his mind all the time — even if you did the deed, he can turn on your back and make hell for you. If you think doing this little job for him is going to make him change his mind about keeping away from you and your family, think again."

"But what didn't The Chechen do right?" Barbara asked.

"That's the thing, my dear." Maroni explained to her, "He can say he's a man of his word, but does that really relate to you? By the means of his reasoning, he only is a man of his word for _himself_. He tells you he won't go after your family; in reality his statement means he won't harm your family — however, he has the will to torture them as he wishes by provoking them with blackmail or something like that. Or on the flip side to it, he won't harm your family, but he will harm _you_."

He raised his hand in questioning. "Does that make sense, Barbara?"

Barbara shook her head. "Yes, it does."

"If this means so much to you to protect your family, by all means go for it. It's _your_ decision." He inclined closer to her. "The last time I was _supposed_ to meet with The Joker was at a shipping dock near the ferries. By word of mouth, I've heard he's been hanging out at an old broken down shed near there. Hopefully that will help."

Barbara smiled as she stood up to leave. "Thank you, Maroni." She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a tiny plaid wallet. Her fingers crawled inside to pull out a hundred dollar bill until Maroni reached up to take a hold of her hand.

"There's no need to pay me, my dear." He said with a smooth tone. "I can tell you're desperate in finding this man."

_What in the world am I thinking?_ Maroni thought to himself. _She just offered me a hundred bucks!_

She gave him a slanted nod and a look of acceptance. Maroni shook her hand just before she was about to leave. He bowed his head, and mumbled under his breath. "Good luck."

**:: :: ::**

The gentlemen who had brought me into the secure part of the restaurant was nice enough to lead me outside to my car and opened the door for me right before I'd drive away to the secluded place The Joker was presumably hiding. It would seem I was heading on the right track after the debate I had with my conscious an hour ago, which by the way had been quiet throughout the entire drive.

What my conscious said before made me think of what Maroni warned me just moments before he'd reveal The Joker's location, about how The Joker was a man of _his_ word, hence, quotations would be added to that part of the statement. It is likely I could get my face carved simply by doing this deed.

As I drove through the abnormally quiet east side of town I scanned out all the buildings for any sign that would state The Joker's hideout; building burnt to the ground, blood smeared on the stone brick walls, anything which would come to mind as a clue or a detour. Seconds past on my mental clock, each ticking getting louder and louder while I drove further down the street; my fingers were glued to the steering wheel for the reason that my nerves were on the brink of disaster. Hours ago I said I'd face The Joker with my fists ready to take a whack at him — now, I was nervous about what Maroni said when The Joker can change his mind.

I clearly remember what my brother said years ago as little munchkins while we'd be playing adventure games like Indiana Jones. _Babs, don't be a scardy cat. It's just a haunted house._

_But what if something happens?_ I'd usually ask him.

_I'll protect you!_ He'd cheer.

Hell, Jr. was my guardian when we were little. As of now I was his guardian._ Don't worry, Jr., let me do the dirty work._

I couldn't think of a comeback answer if Jr. were to ask me if something happens. That really made my day.

About ten minutes into the ride I found myself driving right next to the ferries where my father said there was a hostage situation when The Joker had the hostages play one of his games. I continued to press on the gas pedal to maneuver the car to the east end of the boating dock where a few ships were tied up, the street lights led the way to my destination when I came across a few buildings with the appearance of old worn down secluded places The Joke might possibly be hiding in. I came across one building in particular; sitting in front of the gigantic doors was a black GMC with someone sitting in the driver's seat.

I parked my car off of the curb and stepped out of the car with my fingers still glued to the wheel. It was as if my conscious was taking over me, telling me not to go. I forced my hands off, and slammed the door shut as a way to get back at my conscious.

_I'm doing this no matter what. _ I protested at it.

Good luck trying to survive out of this one.

"Hey, you!" I heard someone yell. I spun on the heels of my feet, and the same man who had been sitting in the car was running up to me with aggression seen all over his face. I placed my hands in front of me in defense; the man started to slow down and stopped with the butt on his gun sticking out from his coat. His fingers caressed the rough metal as though it were his child.

He gave me a glare when I winced.

"I'm only here to see The Joker." I advised him, and I pulled out the USB from my pocket.

He nodded slightly, his hand extended out. "Follow me."

I responded by giving him a glance of acknowledgment; he was the first to take off as I followed him behind, my feet started to ache from walking for hours trying to find Maroni to get some info from him, and now I was trying to catch up with the guy who was leading me to The Joker's hideout. To add on, my body still ached from hiding underneath Bruce's bed — and I yet have to promise myself never to do such a thing again unless I'm about to be killed.

The man walked around the corner of the building and approached a side door and opened it for me. I walked inside as the man closed it and walked beside me to lead me to The Joker and his 'helpers.' We walked up a flight of stairs that led us to the second floor of the building, the walls were dirty with rust and grime forming on the old pipelines and ceiling. On the final step I took the man ominously walked away for no reason even if he knew he was the reason he was leading me to The Joker I was the only person still standing on the stairwell like the dumber person I imagined inside my head.

I paced along the way wondering what the man was up to as I approached an open room made of frosted plexiglass windows; there were silhouette images of men walking about, keeping the same pace each time they walked back and forth like armed soldiers. They were probably aware of my existence in the building, because their posture looked rather strict than naive. One of the men through the plexiglass seemed to have stiffened his back when my hands reached out for the metal pole beside me, as though he were about to blow through the opaque glass and take a shot at my head. I leaned on the metal pole, and waited for the man to return hopefully. The metal soothed my heated skin like ice; it nearly gave me the chills when the hairs on my arms rose from rubbing over a rough spot due to rust. It indicated to me that this building had been vacant for years even when I was a teeny kid. As of now, it occupied one of Gotham's most insane people, and it didn't matter to him the appearance of this building and how it were to effect the environment around his mood aura. To me, it already gave me the chills like before, a sinister feeling nobody should feel when it comes to making deals with the devil himself. The feeling I had inside was an alluring feeling wanting to know The Joker and his perplexed background…it's addiction was like being on drugs.

Me, Barbara Gordon, wants to know more about The Joker? What the hell was I taking these past few days?

I admit, The Joker had a point when me mentioned that the sanest people can suddenly go insane; I was beginning to doubt myself at this point he had already burrowed himself under my skin when I promised since the beginning I would not let him get to me like he did with my dad. It's sad to say, but those promises I kept were melting in my hands.

My mental clock was ticking in my brain. _This man is taking forever to get him._ As the clock ticked my patience grew thinner by the second; all of that changed when the clocked struck twelve, both arrows at a vertical line. The mental ringing shook inside my skull.

"I wasn't expecting _you_ to come." I heard him say.

I managed to get out from my daydreaming and bring my attention back to reality when I heard The Joker talk over my thoughts. My head cocked to the side, and there he was standing right beside the pole I was leaning on, his white plastered face inches away from mine yet close enough to feel his warm breath caress the side of my exposed skin near his Glasgow smile.

It was quite unusual to see him without a purple coat; he was wearing a blue honeycomb long sleeved shirt messily rolled up to his elbows. The front of his shirt was unbuttoned a little from the top, revealing the upper part of his neck, sweat was pouring out from the tiny pores of his grungy skin. _He probably was tired out after blowing up a building_, I joked inside my head.

The heavy breathing became annoying when his face drew closer to my neck. "Miss Gordon, didn't your father tell you never to go out in the dark alone?" He joked. "You've heard of thing happening at the break of dawn that's the main reason they use this metaphor in movies."

"I only came for one reason only, and one reason only." I corrected him, and placed my hand in my pocket where I kept the thumb drive safe.

His grin grew. "Okay then let me hear it."

"You asked my brother a favor to get you something, isn't that correct?"

I noticed that The Joker's eyes widened just a bit to specify his astonishment that I knew his deal with Jr.

"I wasn't aware of your involvement with our deal. By the way where in the living hell where you hiding?"

"I was underneath the bed."

He smacked his lips together. "I would have thought my men were smart enough to even check underneath the bed."

I knew he was being sarcastic about it, simply the way his posture changed all of a sudden. His back was arched like a black cat, and his eyes were fiery, hate was seen all over his face. The mask shielded every part of him as a replacement to show how fierce he really was.

From out of my pocket my fingers produced his thumb drive, I showed him it as thought I were giving him an offering. "I did your dirty work for you."

Surely enough he gave me that 'Oh-My-God-You-Didn't' look. "I would have never imagined Barbara doing the dirty work." He laughed, his tongue glided across his lips.

I rolled my eyes at him. Of course he was being sarcastic.

With his painted stained fingers he plucked the USB from my grasp and held onto it as though it were his child. His voice chimed when he acknowledged the fact that I, the faithful goody two shoes, went through all this hassle without telling Jr. and risking everything including my life so I could get his stupid file from my dad's computer.

"You've made my evening, _Babsy_."

I glared at him for a second after he had given me a new nickname. "My name is Barbara."

"You think I'm that stupid to not know your name?" His eyebrow rose at me. "I'm starting to like the new nickname; it almost rhymes with Batsy." He chuckled at the end from the revelation of how both names rhymed with each other.

_This guy is a complete moron!_ My mind shouted.

"How did you manage to get it?" He curiously asked me, winking at me again.

My throat went dry. "If you'd know how to hack into computers-"

"I know, I know." He drawled.

"Must I ask why you wanted that particular file?"

His previous expression changed all of a sudden when I asked him the question. "Must the world know _everything_ about me?" was all he said before he turned and made his way to a room right across from his goon's hangout. I walked with him, still curious as to why he seemed so eager for the file on my dad's computer. I even wondered how he knew they were with my dad the whole time.

I followed him inside and stood beside the door as I gazed the place out. The temperature inside the room felt like it was in the mid forties, a window was cracked open and it let in the breezy night.

"You know what's funny, Miss Gordon?" The Joker asked me, his empty hand rested on the window pane. His other hand was still holding onto the USB I had given him. "I expect the least to come from you when it comes to making deals with people…like me for instance. I see you as this innocent…little child…not one word could describe you as a rambunctious human being who would get the thrill for blowing something up. However, you do have the will to make life a bit more of a thrill for doing something your parents wouldn't approve."

I crossed my arms and glared at him. "I see no similarities between you and me, so I don't see why you think I like doing bad things."

"If you'd known better, you wouldn't have been on the same line I'm on. You wouldn't have gotten _this_ close" — he raised his hand in front of his face, both his index and thumb nearly touching each other — "with me. We wouldn't be sitting in the same wagon days ago."

"What is your point then?"

"My point is…if we hadn't met each other days ago when your dad interrogated me, we wouldn't have been in this situation as of now."

A hard lump formed in the back of my throat, I had difficulty swallowing it down.

"I'm grateful you were able to get this for me," he said, smacking his lips. "But I'm shocked you were the one that did it when it was Jr's job in the first place."

"I didn't want my brother to end up in the wrong crowd."

"Like you are now?"

I went silent for a moment after he pushed himself away from the window and sauntered to me. He squared his shoulders and straightened his back, the carved grin on his face inched slightly when he raised his eyebrow towards his rhetorical question. I felt cornered between the wall and his shadowy figure; the room was probably shrinking, making it more difficult for me to scram if I could.

"I wouldn't have been if you hadn't messed with my brother's instincts." I growled.

"Honey, I'm the _only_ one who could mess up a person's instincts. I've upset Gotham's social order for as long as you can imagine, and look where they are now in today's modern society? They don't even have the right sense to make the right damn decisions." He started to chuckle under his breath.

I clenched my teeth together when his chuckle grew louder, and interrupted his laugh when I found myself forming fists in both my hands. "How can you find it so funny?"

"Everything to me is funny."

I rolled my eyes counter clockwise and titled my head away from his face. "You would say something like that." My eyes darted back at him without moving my head to actually face him. "Did you find your wife's death funny?"

I could have been daydreaming for all I care, or in reality the room went dead silent. All of that pressure which had been secure inside The Joker's chest seemed to have been released when I brought up one of his past memories.

_You got him_, my conscious exclaimed. _Maybe that's why he wanted you to get the file from your father's computer._

"You _did_ have a wife, didn't you?"

"Doesn't everyone have something in their lives — someone they truly loved?"

I nodded. "Certainly, everyone had something they lost."

"Exactly. Knowing the past ruins things."

The window slowly opened due to the breeze pushing against it, and The Joker snapped his neck in the direction where the window creaked to life. His nostrils flared open as he breathing grew heavy.

"When you know the cause of death, you feel like getting back at it. Haven't you ever had that feeling before, Babs?"

"Of course." I said, concerned.

"Like I said, it's not that I don't enjoy watching people suffer…" He reached for the window and placed one of his hands on the window pane. "I just like seeing Gotham burn for it."

My eyes widened when his hand opened — the USB. He flicked his hand and the USB went flying out the window. Startled, I darted up to the window, poked my head out and watched the USB fly towards the gloomy water below. I heard the object go _ker-plunk_ when it landed; a set of rings formed thereafter where the USB sank and faded. As I watched, The Joker turned to me and growled under his startling voice.

"They deserve their fate for making my life a living hell, so I'll give them hell and see how they _manage_." At the end of his sentence his voice grew darker, it shook me from head to toe.

Suddenly, the door swung open and smacked against the wall, making a cracking sound. It was the same man who had led me into the building.

"We've got cops surrounding the building!" He retorted, and darted out of the room. He yelled at the goons from their hangout and ordered them to follow him down the stairs; I heard the safety buttons from their guns go off.

From out of nowhere a hand flashed out and gripped into my throat, my body and all was lifted up from the ground and I felt myself hit the wall behind me. The Joker's hand was at my throat, his nails dung through my skin like knives and needles. A frown appeared in his Glasgow grin.

"_You_ sent the cops to come?"

"What?" I squeaked as the grip around my neck grew tight. "No! I didn't even tell Jr. and my dad where I was going!"

"How the fuck did they know then?" He yelled at my face.

I grounded on my teeth and glared at him. "I'm not the cause is your _fucking_ answer." I couldn't believe I had actually sworn at him. Even he was taken by surprise for a second or two, but that quickly changed when I jammed my knee into his groin, his grip loosened and he fell back with his hands shielding his pelvic area.

I made a run for it as soon as he was down on the floor.

**:: :: ::**

"You mean to tell me she's inside that building with him?" Jim yelled at a cop through his cell phone.

"That is correct, Commissioner."

"Get the Bomb Squad involved, who knows if he has something planted on her! Get the National Guard for all I care! I want her out and unharmed!"

"Will do, Sir." The phone went dead thereafter.

Jim threw his phone into the back seat of the SUV and glared out the window, fuming from the ears.

Jr. looked out the window as well, worried. "I told her not to do it, dad."

"You know your sister as well enough as I do. She'll do anything to get her way." Jim said through his teeth, still pissed that his daughter was 'probably' held hostage by The Joker. He cut the wheel and made a sharp turn around a corner; Jr. felt his entire body slam into the window beside him and braced himself with both of his hands out and reaching for the dashboard.

"Be careful, dad." He mumbled.

Jr. nodded his head in regret. _What have I done?_ Tears started to well up in his eyes as his head fell into his cupped hands.

**:: :: ::**

I didn't care if I was tripping over my own feet. All that I cared about was that I would make it out of the building alive. Hopefully The Joker didn't have any bombs set up to blow this place up while I try to escape. Let The Joker suffer, not me.

Just when I had run out of the room, I head The Joker scramble to his feet to get up, and when he did he pushed himself off from the floor and threw aside the door that was about to shut on him. The door cracked against the wall, making the hinges break in half.

My feet kicked up speed when The Joker was starting to catch up.

_Oh, Babs, you've done it again! _My conscious complained inside my head.

Inside my head I was fuming like a steam engine. I ran down the stairs missing every other step to catch up with the speed my feet intended to go. _Go complain somewhere else!_ I yelled back mentally.

I think my conscious was pissed at that point, because it didn't whine back at me. It just went…quiet. Oh, I did piss it off. Damn you mental comebacks!

On the last step I tripped when my feet landed on the edge of the step instead of the flat floor beneath where I could plan both my feet safely; I fell back and landed on my tailbone. My hand in reaction went to rub on the bruised spot before I could notice The Joker gaining speed from the top of the stairwell. I pushed myself up with both my hands and regained my balance once I was able to get my vision to clear up. The Joker leaned over the stairwell when I started running again; with all his might he pushed his body up using his upper arm strength, twisted his abdomen and held onto the ledge for a while until I was directly underneath his shadow. The, without warn, he let go.

It was quick like lightning. I didn't see him fall right away; all I saw was a man trying to jump off the ledge of the staircase. From one second to the next there was a change in tempo as though the whole world was going in slow motion. From what I could recall, his weight landed on my upper back, and it made my knees give way to the sudden impact. Just like that, they collapsed like Jello. The front end of my chest hit the floor with a smack, while my knees were still intact at a ninety degree angle.

The impact knocked the wind out of me, and the timing went back after being in slow motion. I lost every moveable muscle when my body kissed the floor hard. I knew then I lost the battle.

_OMPH_.

In just seconds — which would have been enough time to spare myself out of this ordeal — my vision went blurry. I could hardly see anything from my new foresight; imagine having a thick milky colored class glued in front of your face. That was how it felt like. Seeing nothing but fog as your ideal view. I rested my cheek on the cold surface of the floor, it cooled the warmth from my flushed cheeks, the sweat now long gone but leaving behind a sticky residue on my forehead. I couldn't get my legs to loosen; the mobility of actually moving was out of the question for once.

The blurriness grew weary every few seconds, and then finally I found myself lacking energy to actually keep my mind in focus, to keep myself up and about and fight back like I did when Jr. was a hostage at the school shooting. All of that was gone in a flash. In my mind, I felt like crying.

_Why would you give up like this, Babs?_ I told myself.

I scrutinized at the thought, and with both my hands kissing the floor I used up all of my will power to try to get up until I felt The Joker's weight lift up from my back. My chest collapsed from the lack of air I was in taking, and again my entire body gave up and fell to the floor. From the corner of my eye I saw as The Joker fell onto his back breath in heavily as though he had a heart attack; his chest rose after gulping in as much air as possible.

"That was effin stupid." I heard him groan.

_I couldn't agree more pal_,I growled inside my head.

As if he heard my thoughts like a psychic, his upper body rose when he pushed up with his elbows planed on the floor, and glanced over at me in question. His facial expression changed when he heard a loud noise approaching us, making his eyes widen for a second. "Shit, the cops."

As if I really did care at this point that the cops would find me dead with a knife sticking out of my chest. I felt my eyelids grow weary, and prayed all of the madness would end.

_Get it over with, please._

A hand reached under my back, and soon I felt two arms wrap around my body like ivy vines, only these were made up of poison ivy. There was a stinging sensation thereafter as though the arms were poisonous; then, I felt my chest press against tightly against a hard rock solid wall…or it could have been someone's chest and that my mind wasn't thinking straight. The noise was louder by the time I felt the whole world moving all of a sudden.

The whiplashing wind slapped my face with a cold feeling when the sound of a door opened. Then, there the world came to a standstill, and another sound approached — a car possibly — and after a few seconds of waiting the world moved again this time everything lifted up and landed on a soft cushioning landing spot. Everything went still finally.

Still with a blurry vision my head tiled to the side and placed my cheek on the soft comfort of a car seat. I could make out an image of a person hesitantly getting into the car and sitting beside me.

"Where to?" The driver said to the man bucking himself in.

I squinted my eyes a little to get a better look at the man. Immediately, my eyes drooped and I found myself passing out right when the man spoke.

"Anywhere from here." Was all that the Joker said.

Mentally my face scrutinized when I heard another voice after The Joker had his last say. Thinking hardly, the voice sounded familiar to Jr's cry, similar to the same cry when I made Jr. climb – actually, I pushed him – out of the gymnasium window to save his life. Seeing him slide down the tilted roof top made my throat throb up.

The image came back as I started to fall into a state of unconsciousness, I was standing beside Jr. as half his body was hanging out of the window. My hands were clamped around his wrists while he carefully dangled out the window like a stringed puppet. The only difference from this image compared to the one I saw days ago was that there was nothing below the rooftop...only a bottomless pit which would lead to nowhere.

_My mouth made words,"Jr., this may be stupid, but this is for your own good." _

_There were tears in his eyes as he glanced up at me. "Babs," he pleaded. "What are you doing?"_

_My voice went silent when I noticed his tears were falling onto my wrists. The were burning my skin like fire. As the pain continued, I saw that the teardrop puddles on my wrist turned to blood. I look away for a moment – The Joker was behind me._

"_Let him go, or _I'll_ kill him."_

_I turned to Jr. instantly; no, he couldn't die, but I couldn't let him go either. Who knows where that bottomless pit would lead to – nowhere exactly. Would he be better off going there so he wouldn't have to suffer the fate I was about to endure?_

"_Please," he cried. "Don't let go."_

_The Joker's arm extended out with a gun sitting in his hands._

_My throat throbbed in pain, with saliva building up inside. I choked out the words and regretted them then, even though I knew it would be the best for Jr's life. "I'm sorry..."_

_My hands let go, and there I saw Jr. fall onto the tiled rooftop sliding all the way down. Jr. was screaming in bloody murder then._

"_Babs!" _

_..._

Silence broke through the blackness at last.

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**Woot, there we go! I'm sorry it took me a while to get the chapter uploaded. Been busy for the past few days. I hope I made you happy though! Review please!**


	7. Chapter 7: Past Scars

**All I have been doing for the past few weeks is counting down the days until graduation. Ugh, I am ready for summer.**

**I bet you guys missed Barbara and Joker, didn't you? Don't you worry, they have been waiting patiently as well for the release of this chapter. Joker had been threatening me a couple of times if I didn't work on Policy of Truth….you get the picture.**

**I love Depeche Mode, so I had to play a song ("Wrong" by Depeche Mode) to keep the writer's mood going. It seems to fit well with the chapter.**

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**Chapter VII**

It could have been a dream to Jr., but the truth was it wasn't an image projected in his mind.

_Of all that I have gone through already, things have to get _worse_ for me._ He bragged inside his head. _Why is it _always_ me?_

His sister was in trouble — that was one problem. Now, his father had come to find out he was given a task by The Joker to take an important file off of his dad's computer. Boy…was he in trouble…

When Jr. and his father arrived the building was condemned with the goons stuck inside for questioning, and moments later after the official call was made a line of men were lead out from the building and into a heavy armored truck guarded by other SWAT team members. Jr. watched as each man glanced down at the ground; the jingling sound of cuffs strapped to their wrists caused Jr. to swallow down the lump forming from the back of his throat. The SWAT team members aligned the men in single file, and with their guns loaded, they pushed the goons inside and locked the back door afterward, leaving only a trace of the goons' footsteps on the dusty ground cover. The truck pulled away as Jr. climbed out from the back of his father's car while he waited for his father to tell him any news or announcement about his sister's safety.

In no time did he expect his sister to be dead — The Joker had said to him he wouldn't do anything to her…

Finally, Jr. saw his dad approach him, the sudden change in expression had caused Jr's heart to change beat. Distress was seen all over his father's face.

His fears had already reached the breaking point. Saying the words was harder than actually realizing the problem. "Barbara's missing?"

"Yes."

_I fuckin' new it. _Jr. wanted to punch a brick wall at that point.

Sternly, his dad said, "Why didn't you tell me this?"

"Tell you what?"

"About the whole shenanigan with you and The Joker?"

Jr. rubbed the back of his neck. "Bab's would have been dead if I didn't-"

"What were you even thinking?" His father yelled. "You could have been killed!"

Jr's voice grew louder as he threw a fit at his father. His hands flailed in the air as he tried to prove himself he was not an idiot and was not working for The Joker. "He told me to get something from you. That was all he asked."

His father glared at him. "Then what the hell did he ask you to get?"

"He said there was something you had — potential information about him."

"And you _believed_ him?" His dad enunciated the word as though it were contagious.

"If he were joking about it, we wouldn't have been in this current situation by now!"

Gordon turned away from Jr. and sighed. "We know _nothing_ about The Joker, James. There is no way he would have some kind of evidence about…whatever the hell he is…he's got no background information at all!"

"That doesn't mean he's actually telling the fucking truth!" He exclaimed with his neck stretched out. "Dad, whatever he's doing is going to affect all of us if we don't do something. _I'll_ be willing to get Babs back if you're afraid to do so."

He sighed for a moment to cool down, and continued talking when he felt calm enough to explain more to his dad. "Since Babs came back, I wanted to help get Gotham back to normal. All of this madness — you and I have had enough with it. Everyone is! Dad, I'm trying to play the same game The Joker is. I'm not going to let his madness get to my head — I'm going to do whatever I came to get things back to order."

Jr. spun on the balls of his feet to walk towards one of his dad's colleagues who were getting into his car.

Gordon reached out to get his son as Jr. stepped into the passenger's seat of the car.

"James!"

After hearing a response from his head, he stepped out to reply back. "What?"

"Please," his father pleaded. "Please, be careful."

**:: :: ::**

It felt like I had been sleeping for months — or much rather in a deep coma place where I can't hear or a say a thing. I would try to force my eyes open and instead I see black surrounding my foresight. It wasn't a nightmare though — it was just…silent. And dark.

My body and my mind had become functionless.

_I guess I will have to sit and wait._ I told myself.

Waiting was not a priority of mine; honestly, I'm never patient with anything. If I want something I want it now and never have to sit in a room with a whole bunch of people waiting for the same thing.

I felt my eyes twitch for a second or two; there was a crack of light peeping through the blackness.

_Hopefully this is the way out._

My eyelids slowly opened and the light grew brighter and brighter until my mind started to clear up from the previous fog covering me like a shawl. A sharp image finally appeared. A foggy window that belonging to a car I was currently sitting in; I blinked a couple of times and realized it was raining outside the car, the rain pellets hit the window like tiny chards of sleet and hale the size of dimes.

My eyes darted to the side where a man in a black leather coat was driving the vehicle to whatever destination we were heading; his hand cuffed the shift stick while his other hand carefully pulled down the steering wheel to turn. He didn't glance over at my direction to see who was sitting beside him, so to me it indicated whether I was dreaming or not.

I leaned forward as I cocked my head up to the ceiling, and right when my neck was fully extended out there was a throbbing pain from the lower back of my head that struck me like lightning, realizing then I had pulled a muscle. My hand reached out and covered the back of my head, and I leaned into the dashboard as the pain continued to throb.

"Ugh," I moaned. I locked my fingers in place where the throbbing hurt.

This is so not a dream if I'm hurting like hell.

"Geez, you're finally awake."

I tilted my head to the side where the voice came from. All I saw was a red painted grin rising from both corners of the man's white face.

_God damn it! Why can't this be all a dream!_

"I wasn't sure if you were dead or if you were sleeping," The Joker explained, "so originally I was going to throw you off the Gotham City Bridge to see if you'd wake up when you'd land in the water."

I heavily sighed as my nostrils flared open. "I appreciate the concern," I said sarcastically, "but I wouldn't think that'd be necessary as of now."

"It was either that or a slap in the face."

I nodded a little at his response. "I'd prefer the slap."

"They say water does the trick for waking someone up-"

Ugh, he was giving me a headache. The pulse in my forehead started to pound underneath my skin as I glared at him, giving him a disgusted look. "Can you shut up for an hour or so? Can't you see I'm in pain?"

I heard a soft chuckle come from him. Of course, he would laugh about such a topic.

"You know, I like people in pain."

I rolled my eyes clockwise. "You _would_ say that."

The back of my head started to loosen from the burning muscle, and soon everything went numb and was left over from the previous instance was a sore neck. I rubbed the back of my neck with my cool fingers; it made my neck feel even more relaxed. Relieved then, I lifted my head to glance out the window once more. The scenery had changed suddenly from before — the rain started to fade and the surrounding settings were full of green, from green trees to the perfectly groomed grass. I realized then we were passing by Gotham Central Park, suggesting we were five miles away from home.

The car came to a stop and pulled into a dark alleyway between two huge building made of rust colored bricks and moss. The driver shifted the car into park and twisted the key to turn off the car, he then stepped out and slammed the door shut behind him and walked away without looking back at me and The Joker.

I eyed the brick walls for some time and turned to The Joker and asked, "Where are we?"

"Well, because of the previous instance with the police," — he cocked his left eye brow at me — "we had to change _locations_."

Not surprisingly, the wink he had given me told me he was blaming the whole scenario on me. I groaned, and wrapped my arms around my chest. "I did _not_ send them to come after you."

"How did they know then?" He growled, and pointed his index finger at me. "You tell me how they managed to find our hideout."

My teeth clenched together and I inclined closer to him, our foreheads nearly touching. "I don't _fucking_ know."

A white hand flashed out and slapped right across my face, making be fall back into the door behind me. My head hit the window with a hard _bang_.

"There," he growled, "you got the slap you wanted."

My hand reached out where The Joker's hand had slapped my face; I could feel the heat rising up from underneath my skin and it felt warm to the touch when my fingers glided on the sore spot. It felt as though a ball hit my face at a hundred miles an hour, the pain became so excruciating I wanted to curl up into a ball and ball my eyes out. That was how much it hurt — worse than the muscle I pulled in the back of my head.

My mouth hung open the entire time I was starting at him. "You can't hit a girl!"

"Things change, sweetheart." He made a snapping noise with his tongue, and it disturbed me so much I had to cringe.

My free hand crawled behind my back, feeling for an object like a door handle; my fingers felt a cold metal handle, and I pulled up the handle harshly making the door swing open. My body flung back and landed on the cement ground, my hand still clinging onto the door handle. I heard The Joker open his door and slamming it shut as I heard his feet walk over to my side of the vehicle.

_I have to get the hell out of here!_ My mind yelled. My feet scrambled to get up; when both of them planted flatly on the ground I pushed up with my knees and held onto the door for support. After, I pushed away from the door to help me gain speed, and my legs finally managed to kick up speed.

My joy ended shortly when The Joker popped out from the other side of the truck.

_Crap. Crap. CRAP!_

I fell into his chest shortly after he cut into my way to block my exit, his arms wrapped tightly around me like chains, constricting my airways from getting any oxygen into my lungs. I struggled to break free, but his hold was too strong that I couldn't move a muscle. I felt his warm breath caress the side of my neck.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asked.

"Getting the hell away from _you_."

Again he made that smacking sound with his tongue. "I feel so _insul-ted_." He wrapped both of his arms around my arms in a hold and started to drag me with him. "Why would you want to run away from me?"

I cocked my head up to glare at him.

"Because you are a freak, that's why."

He tugged even harder, giving me a dead stare. "I like being a _freak_. It makes me…different…from society."

"Well congrats, buddy. You deserve the freak trophy after all."

He kicked open the door with his foot and lifted me up. "Babsy, how would you feel if you were in my shoes?"

"It's Barbara," I corrected him harshly. "And I'm so not like you at all, so I have no god damn clue how it'd feel."

My weight was lifted up instantly when he picked me up. Both of my feet touched the floor afterward, yet, he kept his hold on my arm.

"Geez, _Barbara_, do you have PMS or something?"

My mouth dropped. "What did you say?"

"You're a lot more rowdy than before. Did I do something to _influence_ this kind of behavior?"

I felt like throwing up any moment now, it started to rise from the pit of my stomach to my throat. For once, he was right. Had I become this rowdy due to his kind of behavior which had influenced many of Gotham's sanest people to become insane like him? I had been a victim of The Joker's scheme all long.

He licked his lips and asked, "Is this normal for you?"

"Not normally." I insisted.

His eyes darted to the side as he began to ponder. "I'm starting to get the feeling there's more to your rowdiness than what the average citizen would know."

The Joker pulled me in closer to him as he walked me up the ashen color staircase, the cold metal bars had given me the chills when I placed a hand on the railing. I glanced the place out quickly and spotted plaque numbers on the walls for each floor. I came to comprehend the fact we were in an apartment complex, one that probably had been closed for some time.

A plaque approached with a number six on it. He opened the door, and with his hand on my back, he gave me a shove to get through the doorway and into a long hallway with faded wallpaper that had been stripped in some sections, revealing a white wall underneath.

One of The Joker's henchmen (who by the way was not at the ship harbor hours ago) appeared from around the corner of the hallway, in his hands appeared to be a vodka bottle and a couple of glass cups — probably they were partying or something. _What wouldn't men do without alcohol?_ I sarcastically said to myself. The henchmen appeared to be in his late twenties, light brown hair in a buzz cut style, his facial features indicated to me he was Italian.

I watched him stroll into the open room across from him; he threw a glass at a guy (the one who was the driver) and offered him a drink, pouring the clear liquid into the glimmering glass like a waiter and afterward poured himself a drink. I felt The Joker nudging at my elbow.

"Go on in," he insisted. When I didn't move, I heard him sigh and without warn he flagged past me, his purple wool coat hitting the side of my hip like a whip.

"J," the Italian henchmen asked, "did you want a drink?" He picked up a glass cup from the table behind him and tossed it over to The Joker, walked over when The Joker finally caught it in the air and handed him the vodka bottle.

"Thanks, Andrew." He nodded, and finished pouring the liquid into his glass. He took a quick sig from his glass and shot his eyes over to me. For a second he seemed to have stopped himself in his tracks to correct the new situation — that meaning me standing by the doorway with a blank expression on my face. "Babs, join the group." He faced the two henchmen, giving them a devilish grin. "We won't bite."

My feet finally had the momentum to move. "Alright."

I slid past The Joker while he stripped off his wool coat and threw it behind him in the cushioned chair he was about to sit in. I found a spot on the couch, and sat down with my hands clinging onto the fabric as though a cat had been scared out of its mind. I found myself facing The Joker then, he rolled up his sleeves and slid his bloody smeared gloves off, they landed carelessly on the wooden floor and again he took another swig from his glass.

The Italian dude, Andrew, decided to sit next to me — his body inching closer to mine — and placed his feet on the coffee table sitting in front of him. My right hand jolted away and lay flatly on my leg.

"So, J, tell me — what's the lay down so far?"

Inside my mind I was grinding on my teeth. I hate the new 'talk' these days — it makes no sense at all.

"Well, Andrew," The Joker began, with his arms wrapped around his lower abdomen and leaned in to talk to Andrew. "We might as well as consider this play as our newest hideout…"

_I did not lead those cops to you_, I wanted to yell at his face.

"Did you get what you want?" Andrew asked, taking a sip from his glass.

"Oh, I did." An eyebrow was raised in my direction. "Of course, in the end I didn't need it anymore."

Well, duh. You threw it out the window!

"Really? I can't imagine you giving up something so easy."

"Well…" The Joker leaned back for a second to shove his hand into a pocket on his green vest. "Technically, I didn't."

His fingers produced a USB thumb drive, the same one I had given him. My eyes broadened and my mouth dropped open. I was in astonishment, wordless for a moment until I could collect my thoughts again. How did he have it the whole time? He threw it out the window! It couldn't have been the same one.

Or was my mind playing tricks on me?

I shook my head. "How did-" He cut me off before I could process the thought I was going to say.

"I had a spare one in my pocket and threw that one out the window."

"I-I didn't see you-"

"Switch?" He wondered.

I blinked.

"Yeah…How did you do it?"

I saw his red Glasgow smile rise from both corners of his mouth. "It's a trick I know."

I fell back into the couch, still amazed how he was able to throw me off with a simple magic trick he knew by heart. His grin never disappeared when he put the object back into his pocket; he glanced up back at me and tilted his head slightly. "Do you want to see another trick I know?"

I blinked a couple of times, baffled.

"Is it that weird trick you did with the pencil?" Andrew asked out of curiosity, not paying attention to our conversation.

The Joker shook his head harshly. "Wasn't that a good one, wasn't it?" He laughed, took a sip from his glass, and quickly gulped down the liquid. "Poor bastard never saw it coming." He placed his cup down on the table, and reached over to get a metal object — a butter knife — the knife was placed in the middle of both his palms, his hands held it high in the air. I was beginning to think he was going to stab himself with it if he weren't careful.

"Watch." He said, and without warn, his hands collapsed to form a ball with both his hands. It was so quick I didn't know if the knife had protruded through his hands or not. I stiffened when his hands were locked together into a ball. Then, seconds later, he let his hands go free and held them in front of my face.

The knife was gone.

Holy. Crap.

"It's a little secret of mine." He murmured, and reached over the coffee table to get his drink. His hand holding the cup extended out a little bit to acknowledge me. "Have a drink, Babs."

He placed his lips against the glass and carefully tipped the glass to get the remainder of his vodka to drip out.

I shook my head. "I'm all set — I don't drink actually."

Suddenly, The Joker stiffened, forgetting to swallow the vodka correctly. He coughed harshly to clear his throat. What did I say to get his all tensed up? I noticed after he had cleared his throat he gave me a look full of awe, as though I were already crazy. Wasn't that what he wanted anyhow?

He shifted in his seat and leaned into me. "Well, that my dear is going to change as of now." He snapped his fingers at Andrew who had been staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes to get his attention. "Andrew, vodka!"

Andrew shook slightly from The Joker's hoarse voice, reaching over the sofa to get the vodka bottle sitting on a table behind him, he threw the vodka bottle over my head and The Joker caught it in mid air. He had a cup on him too I didn't notice at the time while I was watching Andrew fetch the bottle for him. He poured the remainder of the liquid into the class, grinning ear to ear, and took a hold of my hand to put the glass in my hand.

"Here you go, Babs. Drink up."

"Honestly, I don't any reason why I should have to drink."

"They say drinking relaxes you after a rough day at work." He said, pretending to longue in his chair as though he had been wiped out from working so hard. "Your father must have a beer or something once in a while…"

"Of course, but like I said I'm not a drinker."

"How could you deny such an offer?"

I took my eyes off of him to think about the question for a moment. I might as well as tell him the truth. "I used to do stupid stuff when I was in college." The moment when I said that The Joker seemed amused, while I felt heavy inside my chest.

He gave me a smirk, resting his elbow on the arm of the chair so that his arm would extend upwards for his chin to rest in the palm of his hand.

"Were you a party animal back in college?" He asked.

"Yeah, I was my freshman year."

"What made you decide to give up the drinking then?"

I sighed. "I…I was drunk out of my mind once, and a friend of mine wanted to head down to the harbor with a couple of friends to go swimming. She drove, I was in the back of the car changing into my bathing suit…"

I swear I head The Joker chuckle at the part when I said I was changing into my bathing suit. Sicko.

"When we got there they were already jumping off the pier, so Jess and I decided to get a running start when jumping. The first time around everything went well…" I found myself trailing off when The Joker tilted his head at me to listen more to the story.

"Then what happened?" He asked, knowing something bad must have happened.

I leaned back into the couch to finish up the story. "Jess and I got out of the water and decided to go for another jump off the pier. She got there before me and jumped right when I had tripped on the stairs — I was drunk of course, and stuff like that happens." I went silent for a moment to collect my thoughts. "When I go to the end of the pier everyone noticed that Jess hadn't resurfaced from the water. One of the guys jumped in, worried something had happened, and when he did Jess finally surfaced…backside up. Her head had hit a boulder when she dove in."

The Joker stiffened again when I told him about Jess.

"We were too drunk to drive her to the hospital so we had to find a phone to call for an ambulance. Someone was nearby and lender their phone — the ambulance did come and bring Jess to the emergency room to stitch up her wound. However, because of the impact she was in a coma for over four months, and after she had a lot of brain damage that the doctors said she wouldn't remember anything anymore — how to walk, speak, move a limb…"

My throat started to swell up, saliva building up in the back of my mouth.

"I feel as though it's my fault because I didn't keep a good eye on her. But I also have to blame the alcohol since it was a major role in the accident."

The Joker licked his lips after hearing the story, and looked as though he were musing about something. "It sounds to me you must have been _scarred_ by it."

I winced when he said the word I had least expected to hear: scarred. It gave me the chills since he for a fact was scarred himself. He must have had a bad memory — or a bad day like I did — in his past that's scarred him for life. How would he have turned like this if he weren't scarred?

The Joker turned his attention away from me and instead towards Andrew to get his mind off of my story. "The guys back at the shed were probably caught. Do you know anyone in mind who would work with me?"

Andrew rose. "Yeah I do, J. I can give them a call if you like."

"_Per-fect_." The Joker said, almost purring the words out. "Take Jacob with you if you want."

"What will you be doing then?" Jacob asked as he got up from his seat.

The Joker turned back to me at last.

"I think I'm going to stay here for the rest of the night and get to know Miss Gordon a bit more." He made the snapping noise with his tongue again and winked at the same time.

Jacob nodded as Andrew got up from the sofa and walked out of the room with him. I heard the door from down the hallway close shut. I was stuck with The Joker, alone, again. Why, oh why do I always get stuck with him? Hell, he was keeping me confiscated in his new hideout!

The Joker grabbed my glass again and gulped the liquid down. "Now, Babsy, let's talk more about you."

I was fed up already that I was his new hostage; I didn't want him to know anything else about my troubled past as a college student. What I was not expecting was to hear my own voice turn into a hiss as poisonous as a serpent. I would have never spoke to a person in that kind of tone — as The Joker mentioned before, he probably was the reason to my rowdy behavior.

"I _don't_ want to talk anymore about my past." I hissed, and stood up ruthlessly, taking my eyes off of him as a way to ignore his presence.

_He doesn't need to know why I was stupid back then!_ I thought aloud.

As I walked out of the room, I heard a metal snapping sound from behind my back; I felt a hand grip my shoulder tightly, making me spin on the balls of my feet with my back against the doorframe. The Joker pinned his hand on my throat, I could feel his nails dig into my skin like tiny needles; his other hand flashed out and from out of the blue he placed a sharp object against my mouth. The object he had in his hands was his little friend — aka, the knife worth a thousand words. His favorable knife for short.

His facial features that were covered in makeup made him look even more frightening than he originally did moments ago. The dark clouds surrounding his eyes made him look like the devil that had finally rose from hell.

"When I say I want to know more about your past, then you are to do what I say." He hissed.

"You don't need to know about my fucked up past." I spat in his face, making him back a fraction of an inch from my face.

His knife kissed the surface of my skin.

"It's funny to say that scars can be _permanent_ if you don't handle them right." He raised an eyebrow at me. "I can make it permanent if you like — like how your friend permanently ended up a vegetable."

"Don't you fucking call her a vegetable!"

With my hands in front of me, I shoved him away with all my might he tumbled over the sofa and landed on his back, his legs dangling over.

I was losing control then.

_You are so fucking dead!_

Just went I was about to strangle him, I stopped. I stood there in awe when I came to realize my actions were getting to the point that I couldn't control myself anymore. I lost all my temperament because of this idiot sitting in front of me. I was as wild as an animal trying to break free from its trap. My conscious returned then to finally talk to me — yell at me actually.

_Run you idiot!_

I did, since A) my conscious was still pissed at me for not trusting it and B) it had a point since The Joker had managed to get himself up again when my instincts returned to me. I darted from the room and stood in the center of the hallway where we originally came from, looking around quickly for an escape route and hopefully to lose The Joker in my tracks. There was the door where The Joker's henchmen had walked through, and it was the same door that leads to the stairwell and out to freedom. I felt my heart pounding rapidly again my chest.

_Move it!_ My conscious yelled for a second time. I felt it kicking my brain mentally, making my feet move instantly.

But the only thing was my feet did not move in the direction where the door was — they were running towards the other end of the hallway and around the corner.

_What the hell Babs! That door would have leaded you to freedom!_

I grounded on my teeth after listening to my conscious. _Let me see if there's another exit or something…_

I was beginning to think I was more dumber than I thought, because when I turned that corner where my feet were leading me to, it turned out the corner lead me to a blank wall in my view — a dead end.

Shit.

_Windows! We need windows!_ I yelled back.

My conscious didn't seem to care anymore at this point. _Again, I wish you luck. You aren't going to find a damn window in this place!_ And shortly after, the voice faded.

Crap. I pissed off my conscious even more.

My eyes darted to the side for a split second to see a door right next to me. I prayed there would be a window inside, hoping to prove to my conscious I was not dumb. My hand reached out to the door knob, twisting slowly; the door opened, and my heart sank when I noticed there weren't any windows in the room. Just a closet, a desk, a bed…

An idea came to me then.

Hide. That's it.

I ran into the room and looked around for a good hiding spot. I wasn't going to hide under the bed, knowing last time I learned my lesson from that. A desk probably is not a good idea since he can easily see my feet from underneath. The closet…didn't see any drawbacks from that idea, in which then a smile hinted on my face. I walked over, talking the knob in my hands and opened it slightly so that the door wouldn't make noise. I slid in between the open, and closed it right after, digging through the swamp of clothes in my way like an explore in the rain forest with a long curved knife to cut away the bushes and limbs in the way.

_Hopefully this closet won't lead me to Narnia_, I mused.

I found a corner in the closer that seemed to be a good hiding spot, and so, I pushed myself through the clothes and covered myself whatever was next to me — a jacket and a shirt — there was a mound of clothing on top of me after.

My breathing went still, and I listened to the environment surrounding my head.

It was dead silent.

Just…silent.

As though no living thing or ghost lived in the apartment complex.

There was a light _click_ at one point; it shook me up to bits until my mind calmed down. It went silent again.

_Maybe he's gone._ I thought to myself.

I carefully pushed the items off of me to get to the door, opened it slightly enough so I could slide out; as I made my way to the door, for some reason my guts told me something was strange about the room — I didn't believe it though so I shook my head and gripped the handle to turn it.

The handle wouldn't budge. Now I get the reason why I heard a click noise a while ago.

He fucking locked me in!

"God damn it!" I yelled, and kicked the door with my foot. It was loud enough for the entire apartment to hear my anger.

And guess what? It did ring off an alert to someone who had been in the room with me all this long. A hand appeared in front of my face, it flashed towards my throat and shoved me into a man's chest behind my back.

"So, you think hiding is going to solve all your problems?" The Joker squeezed me in his grasp, and with his free hand produced his friend from his vest. "If you want, I can make those scars permanent like I mentioned before — exactly the way your friend ended up — "

With the knife at my throat, I hissed at him. "Don't you fucking bring her up!"

He placed his hand against his ear.

"I'm sorry, I can't recall what you're saying."

I squirmed in his hold when he drew his knife closer to my skin.

"This foolishness Babs — I don't know what to say exactly. You defend your friend because you think it's your fault she ended up paralyzed; what if in my opinion it is all not truly your fault?"

I scrutinized at him.

"I mean — there were other kids there, correct?"

"Yes." I said, still confused.

"You can't just blame yourself, Babs. Sometimes, you have to blame _society_." He licked his lips and gazed up at the ceiling. "Human error: it's all because of society. For instance, say someone…" He mused for a second to think up an idea. "…say someone was held at gun point. There are literally hundreds of people around them, and the person would think someone would have the guts to save them."

His head tilted down to face me. "But, the truth is this — _nobody_ takes a step forward to help the person out, because they're afraid they will suffer the same fate the person will in the end. Did those friends of yours step forward to help Jess out?"

I nodded. "No."

"And that's why people like me can't trust society for their actions. No wonder we have so many criminals on the streets — nobody does anything to stop them."

"Tell me then," I said, "what scarred your life that made you feel betrayed by society?"

He went silent.

"Something must have happened to you too, something they did which makes you dislike them so much."

His grip on my throat grew tighter.

I felt my lungs collapsing from the lack of air going into my lungs, causing me to struggle with talking. "You…must have been some…average Joe — why else…would you have changed your inner being?"

Everything went still for a second until I felt his mouth an inch away from my ear. I winced when I felt his breath caress my skin, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

"It's not who I am underneath," he stated, "but what I do, that defines me."

After he had threatened me, he let go; the upper half of my body landed on the cold floor beneath, my lungs filled with air at last after being strangled for some time. The coldness felt soothing to my warm skin, the blood that had rushed to my head started to go down, making my skin feel less warm than before. I could tell my skin looked flushed just by the reflection from the knife — it fell after he had let go of his grip from my throat — there was a glint of red along the rough edges, just visible enough to the naked eye. My fingers crawled out to touch the rough edge of the knife, gliding across to remove the red left over, and wiped it clean with my index finger. There was just a trace of blood on my finger afterward — again, it was so little you could hardly tell there was blood on the knife in the first place.

The knife worth a thousand words — stories sounded better in terms of its use — it had a story for me. The long battle of fighting The Joker in terms of life and death, all that work I did just so Gotham, my family, and David would feel safe — it all collapsed on me like building crumbling from its base. I said I would save Gotham from turmoil, but now, I had no detours to get to my goal.

I've suffered enough that I was the one in turmoil, not Gotham. _I can't fight back_, I told myself. _He'll crawl underneath my skin even more. Already he's done enough damage to permanently mess up my plans __—__ my life if possible._

I thought about Jr, though, and how he managed to stand forth like a Marine. Thinking about what's happened for the past few days, how he was able to keep his ground. Jr. was able to let things fly over his head; whatever it was with The Joker it appeared he let those thoughts banish to the other side of the world. So to speak, Jr. wasn't in much turmoil like I was; I mean — there were time when he was shaken to the core, but it didn't make him fear for life overall. He _wanted_ to help Gotham as much as I did. With that said, he brought his own courageous side when I arrived to Gotham, to show he was stronger from inside than he appeared from the outside.

I came to realize then that the school shooting, the prom — all of that hadn't really affected him at all. I was worried for my own brother — basically, I was overreacting. He knew from the beginning that he'd be okay if he was careful enough to trust the devil with his own instincts, thus, he planned stuff out in advance in case he had to change a previous plan. He's a lot like my father. Gather the evidence first before the actual attack.

The prom for instance — he knew the risks if he weren't careful, he managed to walk away without a single injury, and he managed to make a deal with The Joker without the hazard of getting targeted.

_Jr. would be upset if you give up_, my mind finally said.

I agreed.

"I don't mean to be a jerk," I heard The Joker said. "But I consider this as being necessary as possible."

There was a white cloth in his hands when I looked up, it came down and covered my eyes from seeing, and then I felt my mouth being closed shut by duct tape. My words were muffled out as he pressed the tape down for it to stick. I felt his hands grab both my wrist to drag me to wherever, the tape returned again when he wrapped both my hands around a wooden pool — turns out to be his desk when my head hit one of the drawer handles.

I felt his breath hit my face again. "If you even try to get out of my sight again, you will _regret-tah_ it when I kill your family, David, and _you_." He spat, and soon I heard him walking away, slamming the door shut when he left.

**:: :: ::**

There was an ominous glow in the dark milky sky when Jr. flipped the switch to one of the GPD's spotlights on top of the roof. The ominous glow had changed into an image seconds later, a hint of a smile appeared on Jr.'s face when the spotlight seemed to work fine for it hadn't been used in months. The one he had in mind was taken off the roof after Gotham's hero had vanished — he had to make do with the one that had been up there before Gotham decided to create a spotlight for their hero.

The paint he smeared onto the spotlight made an image of a Bat, and from within the clouds the image reflected perfectly as though there were a giant monster flying across Gotham with its two gigantic wings and perfect eyesight for all of Gotham to see that it exists.

Jr. lowered his head in approval. _Hopefully this works…_

Time flew by as Jr. waited for his heroic icon to show up, sitting on the roof top with a flashlight and a jacket to cover his shoulders from the cold; he stared at the icon floating in the clouds, wondering if Batman would ever show up after all the trouble he had went through for the past few months, hiding from the people he trusted.

_He wouldn't turn away from such an image._ He mused. _It's basically his calling card._

There was a _whooshing_ sound from above his head, causing Jr.'s heart beat to rap at an uneven pattern. He quickly looked up to see nothing but the same bat symbol floating above.

His attention was caught off guard when he heard another noise, a noise that sounded as though someone landed on the roof. When he turned his head to the side, he smiled to see the person that had landed was none other than Batman. Dressed in black from head to toe, his cape flagged as he walked over to Jr., his armor shinning. Jr. rose and let his coat fall from his shoulders.

"I called you for a reason." He said, staring into Batman's eyes.

Batman gave him a nod as a response.

Jr. sighed. "I need you to help me get The Joker off of the streets. He's got Babs."

Batman's eyes widened slightly, but not enough to alert Jr. of the sudden change in expression.

"Will you?" Jr. asked, in a way a child would say 'please' to get what they want.

Batman acknowledged him by giving him another node. "I will."

* * *

**FINALLY! Jr. is in control!**

**I've got some evil plans for the next chapter if possible. Thought up of a scenario after watching House MD a while back, and for some reason I laughed about it if it happened to Babs. If not the next chapter, then it will be the chapter after that.**

**Review please C:**


	8. Chapter 8: Strip Poker

**I am finally a graduate!**

**Joker****: **_**Well, it's about time you did!**_

**Shut up.**

**Sorry for the delay, guys. I've been busy with senior related stuff and now I'm back at the park working full time once again.**

**Joker****: **_**Ah, the good ol' days…scrubbin' toilets…slipping on slick floors…late night partying…code br-**_

**Only **_**twice**_** did I have to scrub toilets down. And don't you dare mention our "code" system. You'll gross them out.**

**Joker****: **_**That was the whole point. He he.**_

***Sigh***

**Here you go…**

* * *

**Chapter VIII**

The seconds past, turning into minutes, then into hours. I swear my mind was falling asleep on me whenever I mentally tried to keep my focus straight on the problem I was dealing with at the time. Here I was, strapped to a desk leg with duct tape, out of ideas.

If only I had the ability to mentally do stuff with my mind — like lifting an object with the usage of my eyes — I would have been out of this mess. I sighed, realizing there was no way I would ever have that ability. Damn it reality world!

My wrists started to sweat from where The Joker strapped me. The duct tape slid each time my sweaty wrists moved. Still blindfolded, I couldn't tell whether it was morning or night; I could hardly see through the blindfold to actually make out a shadow or a hint of light. There was nothing I could do to predict the time of day, which was why I lost count at one point when my mental clock stopped on me the moment The Joker tied me up to his desk.

I even come to wonder why in the would would he strapped me to his desk rather than some poll which would have been much of a challenge to break free; hell, if I had the mobility to lift the desk with my back, I would have been able to slide my hands out.

An idea came to mind when my hands relaxed. With my back right up against the desk I adjusted my knees to buckle in position, both feet planted firmly on the floor, I gave the desk a good shove with my upper back pushing against the drawers. The desk moved a slim inch, but not enough to slide my hands out.

Damn it! Did he nail the desk to the floor or something?

I sighed, anguish filled my lungs.

_I can't believe this is happening_. I mused.

I should have had that drink The Joker offered me. I was pissed.

Just then, I felt a hand grab my wrist and placed a sharp object in between the duct tape to tear it open carefully. My hands were free within seconds. My blindfold was being tugged at by the same pair of hands that had released my hands from their chains. It slid off, revealing The Joker crouched down on his knees. His finger pinched on the end of the duct tape sticking out from my mouth, and ripped it off. Ow.

I brought my hand up to my mouth to rub away the ripping pain.

"We're playing poker with the new guys and thought it'd be nice to invite you as our guest of honor." He hinted a smile at the end.

I scrutinized at him. "You really think of me as your guest of honor."

"You're no better than me."

I sighed. "Fine."

He wrapped his hands on my arm, his eyes dancing all over the upper half of my body, and with one try he pulled me up.

"Can I be honest about something?" He asked.

"What then?"

"For a girl who lives in a Southern Bell type of family, your father actually approves you showing _cleavage_?"

Again, I scrutinized at him for a second, wondering, until I realized for a second he was talking about my shirt. I looked down to see that the v-neck was showing a lot more than it did before. Now I was starting to understand why he was looking at me strangely, as though he were admiring the view of my cleavage.

I pinched the upper half of my shirt and lifted it slightly to fix the problem, until The Joker's hands flashed out and clamped onto my wrists.

"No need to fix it — I actually _admire_ the view."

See?

Again, he was not actually looking at me and instead was keeping his eyes on my chest. I saw his eyes pin pointed on the spot.

"Eyes up here buddy." I warned him.

He didn't let go of my wrists when he turned his head away from my cleavage ; he held onto them as he dragged me out of the room and back into the hallway where it lead to the same area where the door to freedom was. Instead of going down that hallway, he brought me into a different room right across from the living room; it was some sort of dining room with a kitchen in the corner. It wasn't as messy as I imagined, although there were a few empty beer bottle sitting on the carpet floor besides the dining room table. There were four men seated at the table, each with a glass in their hands, talking and smoking amongst each other, when we entered they turned n their seats and grinned when they saw me.

"This is the commissioner's daughter?" One of the guys asked, a man roughly in his thirties with a goatee and slick black hair. He looked Hispanic, but it's quite hard to tell.

The Joker stopped in his tracks and glanced over at the guy and back at me. "Isn't it quite obvious?" He teased. He gripped my chin with his hand. "She's got the Gordon genes all right."

He let go, and pushed my elbow to make me move. A guy not far from me pulled out a chair beside him and offered me a seat — turns out to be Andrew, who was just about the deal cards when The Joker interrupted him.

"I've got an idea, Andrew."

"Tell me then."

"To make things…different around here…let's go for strip poker."

My eyes broadened.

_FFFUUUCCCKKK!_

"Are you serious, J?" Andrew questioned his unusual idea, knowing that most of the guys already had one item of clothing on the — pants and boxers for instance — and that if they lost about half of the men would be bare right in the middle of the game. To add on, knowing how guys are, there was only one female in the room, meaning the guys would care less about the game and pay more attention to Barbara's body.

I could tell in Andrews face he wasn't too keen on the idea, but he had to somehow agree with him if he wanted to live. I was grinding on my teeth as The Joker sat down next to me, smacking his lips at me.

"I think it'd be fun." He suggested, winking at me.

I groaned, and rested my head on my hand.

I better win most of the bets.

Andrew dealt the cards out, and once he finished I picked up my set of cards and examined them. A few of the cards were in an order from five to nine (which would be a straight,) just the only thing missing from my hand was an eight. Once everyone else examined their deck, cards flew into the center where a deck of cards were. They picked up whatever number they needed and added to their deck. I tossed my useless card and picked up one.

I grunted when the card faced me. It was a six.

"Who's in?" Andrew asked everyone, his index finger circling the poker chip on front of him.

Jacob shook his head. "I'm out." He placed his cards on the table and pushed them aside. Another guy agreed, and threw his cards aside.

I shook my head. "I'm out too."

Andrew looked back at his cards again and looked at The Joker. "J, twelve hundred on the table. You in?"

"Does it look like I'm not?" He grinned, and shoved a sixth of his poker chips into the middle with Andrew's pile.

"I'm going for two thousand." A guy said, dropping his poker chips on the table.

"Twenty five hundred." The Joker added, throwing in a few more chips.

Andrew frowned. "Damn, I don't think my hands worth that much."

"You better start unbuttoning your shirt then." The guy said, chuckling with The Joker. He stiffened and said, "Hands down. Flush — all hearts."

"See? Told you my hand was worthless." Andrew threw his cards down; he had a straight, but it wasn't enough for him to win the bet.

The Joker's grin grew as he slowly placed his cards down on the table. He had a straight too. "Let's start stripping for Richard, Andrew." He laughed. His fingers went for his vest and he unbuttoned it from top to bottom. He threw it aside and waited for Andrew to finish unbuttoning his shirt.

Richard started laughing as Andrew threw his shirt at him. "Give me the manola!" He slid the poker chips in his direction.

Andrew passed out the next rounds of cards, and I picked them up to examine them — there was a smile in my mind when my hands were a four of a kind.

"Anyone for this round?" Richard asked.

Andrew nodded. "Nope. I'm out." Two more guys threw their cards down in agreement.

I gazed up at Richard, who made a smacking noise in his mouth. "Not too sure about this round…"

I peaked at my cards for a second and with fingers on the poker chips I prayed in my head The Joker wouldn't have any good cards in this round.

"Babsy," I heard him say while I was in deep thought. I turned my head to face him; he looked rather pleased. "I'm putting down three thousand — you in for the bet?"

I sighed. "All right then." I pushed my poker chips into the pile with The Joker's; something tells me I'm in deep trouble with this bet I was making. I placed my cards down gently on the table.

The Joker grinned. "You've got a great set there."

_Okay…_

"Thanks?" I wondered.

"No, no, I didn't mean the cards…" He laid his deck flat on the table.

_Oh, you have got to be kidding me! He actually won?_

I groaned inside my mind as my hands went for my pants, that is until The Joker interrupted my thoughts and with the flick of his knife he grabbed onto my shirt from the collar and tore it right down the middle. My chest was completely exposed to these morons. I felt my face start to heat up — either I was blushing due to embarrassment, or my face was as red as a tomato because I was pissed off.

"What the hell?" I yelled, covering my chest. Luckily I wore a bra underneath, but God knows if that will be torn off by him eventually.

He chuckled under his breath as he tossed the old shirt away.

"You were going _too_ slow for me."

Three rounds later, half of the guys — excluding The Joker — were almost bare naked; as for me I had pants and a bra on still, and I prayed for the entire time that I wouldn't lose any more bets. I did win one round eventually, and The Joker didn't seem to be happy about it.

When the seventh round arrived, Andrew and Richard were the only two guys let who hadn't forfeited from the game. Well, The Joker of course wanted them to give up at some point, but they were keeping up with his game as well as I was. I forfeited from this round due to bad cards, leaving Richard and The Joker left for their bet. Sadly, Richard lost, meaning his boxers had to be ripped off, leaving him bare naked in front of everyone. Richard stood up and let the table before he could take off his boxers to show the world his privates.

Andrew tossed his cards in and forfeited the game. "I'm done here." He stood up and walked with Richard to the longue where he and his pals drank and mingled.

I was the final one standing in The Joker's sick game.

"Looks like it's only you and me, Babsy." He joked.

"It's Barbara." I reminded him.

"I still like Babsy." He said, shuffling the deck of cards in his hand. He licked his lips as he continued to shuffle the deck. "Did you know when you shuffle a deck of cards so many times the order is random?"

He handed me a few cards and picked up his own to examine them. I stared at mine and answered his question.

"Do you think I'm dumb enough not to know that?"

"It was just a question out of curiosity." He picked a card out from the pile and looked at me. "It's like how _life_ is _random_. You shuffle things in life and random things pop up in the end, like these cards predict things to happen in the future."

I reached over to pick up a card when The Joker's hand flashed out and caught my wrist. "This for instance — did you expect to meet me in person? Did you expect all of this to happen in so little time?"

I shook my head. "No. I wasn't."

His head tiled to the side like a puppy's head would when they wanted something from their owner. As if he thought I was _lying_.

"That's the truth and the whole truth." I said.

I felt his hand let go and I managed to pick up my card and add it to my deck. It was a good card, making my deck four of a kind. I pushed in my poker chips towards the middle. "Two thousand."

The Joker grinned. "I'm in."

Finally, we placed both of our decks down — the results were appalling. We both had four of a kind, only his were a higher number than mine. I felt my insides turn inside out.

"I'm doing the pants this time." I told him flat out before he could say a thing about taking my bra off for me. I unbuttoned the pants, unzipped the zipper, and then slid my pants off carefully. The landed on the floor after I managed to get both of my feet out of the leggings of the pants, and as I went to sit down The Joker grabbed my left thigh and turned it towards him.

He was laughing hysterically. "When did you get that tattoo?"

I felt myself blushing this time. I had forgotten that I have had that tattoo for a long time, especially since I never pay attention to it and its fine details.

"Freshman year."

"This must have been the result of your drinking problem."

I groaned. "I much rather not be reminded of that."

I bent my torso to the side to get a better view of that tattoo; it was a picture of a bright orange tiger with emerald green eyes that can easily be spot out from far away. It was Jess who suggested to me I'd get a tattoo of a tiger since I have the ferocity of one — in terms of my defense skills, I'm not really ferocious as a person overall. Hey, I didn't mind getting one — I was drunk, I didn't care. Now that my drinking days were over, I started to care. I didn't want to think that tattoo ever existed, nor did I want my father to know I got one in college. And worst of all, I didn't want The Joker to see it and think I'm as crazy as he is.

He petted the tiger at though it was precious like diamonds.

"I like it a lot." He mumbled.

I couldn't believe I have gotten myself in this situation already.

"God, I really need a drink." I grumbled.

Suddenly, The Joker reached behind him and produced a liquor bottle in his hands. "Help yourself."

There was a glass cup on the table already, so I picked it up and took the bottle from him, and poured the liquid into the cup. I gulped in down in seconds as though it were a shot glass and slammed it on the table after I finished. I guess I'm back to the drinking era once more…

"You look rather pissed."

"Duh." I slurred, and poured more liquor into my cup. "I didn't want you to see it — oh, and I didn't want you to see all of this." I circled my image with my hand.

"Don't be embarrassed — I've seen worse."

"You're just saying that—"

"No. I'm _no-t_."

Again, I tipped the glass up to my lips with my head held high and gulped down the liquor. "So, you're telling me you've seen a woman's body in this kind of condition before?"

"Once." He said.

"Was that you're wife?" I asked.

He went quiet for some time, pressing his thumbs together as he pondered the question thoroughly. He went with a rough, quick answer. "Yes."

It made me wonder even more if The Joker had a pleasant life before the world crashed on him. I had the guts to ask him — as if I hadn't before.

"How long were you married to her?"

"Why do you want to know these things?"

"I'm just curious."

He inclined into the table and put his elbow on the table. His hands were cupped into a ball. "Five years."

Wow. Five years — that's short.

"What happened to her?"

"You know, this is the reason why I hate the past as much as you do." He pushed himself away from the table and leaned back in his chair.

"I'm…sorry." I said, emotionless in my tone.

His head tilted down as he glanced over at me. "One thing I leaned over the years is that you should never be sorry for your own questioning. In fact, you shouldn't be sorry overall."

"Why do you say that?"

"Apologies to me…are _useless_. People don't mean then like they do. They say it to make you feel better when for a fact it's all a façade."

Honestly, I never really thought of apologies that way. His meaning made sense: people's apologies these days aren't as truthful as they seem. It's like he said — it's all a bunch of scum. It is the exact reason why many of us can't trust one another.

Maybe The Joker see's it the same way as I do. Trust can be lacking, the truth is nothing but a joke to most people.

The vein in my forehead started to pound underneath the thin layer of skin, causing my pain for me to place my fingers on the targeted spot to stop the upcoming headache. I groaned for a second, the tip of the liquor bottle up against my pale lips. "I'm getting a headache already…"

I heard The Joker reach into one of his pockets and something landing on the table. A pair of two white tablets rolled in front of my grunting face.

"Take these." The Joker said.

I couldn't resist, due in part of the headache that would end up hurting even more if I didn't do something. My fingers extended out to pick up the pills like a metal claw in a machine that would grab a winning toy; I popped the pills into my mouth and took a huge swig from the liquor bottle. The pills by then were being swooshed around inside my bulging cheeks, and finally I gulped the liquid down, nothing was left in sight.

Something thought seemed odd about the pills, the shape maybe — God knows what would be abnormal about them. I didn't care at the moment.

My shoulders relaxed after being tensed up for the past few minutes of playing poker and interrogating The Joker as though he were a convict…which in fact he was.

He seemed to have a hint of joy in his smile when I looked up for a second after gulping the pills down, part of the contrary of his sketchy side to his personality. What seemed so odd to me at the beginning had a different outlook when this man gave me a smirk with his blood painted smile — from underneath the paint he wore on a daily basis, I started to see the true man that was hiding for so long. The Joker would never get into this much detail about his past. Hell, I learned that he had a wife for five years — that's big information for the Major Crimes Unity and the Police Department! With that kind of info you would be able to track his info down.

Why would he get this friendly with me already? Strange as he seems, he will do anything to get underneath my skin, even if that means I would have to interrogate him more if I have to as a way to get the most from him.

Again, as most come to wonder: who is he? Who is The Joker?

I began to notice that my eyes were dropping — quite an unusual side effect.

"I call it even for tonight." He murmured, tossing his cars into the uneven pile in front of him.

I nodded slightly, although my nodding seemed to be a bit weak.

"Same here."

_Actually, Babs, he won this game._ My mind told me._ You in a bra and underwear __—__ it does not make it a tie._

Whatever.

I reached down to pick up my pants, and stood up to put them on; it was quite difficult putting them on for once. Whenever I tried to shove a foot into one of the pant leggings I'd tumble over and fall into the chair next to me. The Joker watched me as he fixed his tie, chuckling under his breath.

"Having a little trouble there?" He asked.

I looked up at him with a baffled looked on his face.

"I never thought putting pants on would be this difficult."

"It ain't when taking them _off_." He chuckled at the last working, making my cringe.

I wondered why I was having so much trouble, until a light bulb flicked on inside my head. The pills. There was something strange about them — they weren't ibuprofen for sure.

I quickly sat down before something would happen, .placing my elbows on the table

"What the hell did you give me?"

"I figured you needed something to relax you since you're always so tensed up."

I scrutinized at him. "You drugged my drink too, didn't you?"

He had a hard laugh come out as though he were amused. "You should know, Babs, that you shouldn't take pills with alcohol. They say it really…"

I could not believe it.

"You fucking' bast-"

And that was it. My mind told me I was out cold. And I was out cold so fast I couldn't finish the rest of my sentence. My head fell into my folded arms.

I could hear The Joker finish up his sentence as my consciousness faded out.

"…_messes_ you up."

* * *

**Joker: Geez, Babs, I think you've had too many to drink in your days.**

**Babs: The reason to my addiction is because I'm trying to get you out of my head.**

**Joker: You really need therapy.**

**Me: *facepalm***

**Review! XOXO**


	9. Chapter 9: Loathe

**Chapter IX**

There was a sudden chill in the air that made my body mentally shake from head to toe, as though a shawl had covered my entire body from being exposed to the previous atmosphere I recently endured. Whether this was a good thing or not, my mind wasn't yet in the clearing, so I couldn't determine that subject for the moment. Or so I thought.

I noticed that the atmosphere felt a lot more realistic than it would mentally, meaning my mind was finally clearing up. My eyes fluttered open as I placed one of my hands on my forehead, immediately I noticed the extricate details of the room I was in. It was the living room. There was no one else in the room other than my stupid conscious and me. I rose from the soft cushioning of the couch I had been sleeping on — probably for some time — and flailed my arms out to stretch out the kink in my back.

_What the hell happened last night?_ I wondered.

As my arms relaxed I looked down to see that I was fully clothed again after having my t-shirt torn apart by The Joker. I still had my old pants — and _luckily_ they weren't dismantled — but instead of the shirt I used to wear I had a gray tank top on with beaded embellishments on the scoop neck part. I noticed the price tag was still intact to the tank top, suggesting that The Joker was too lazy enough to actually _pay_ for the shirt. Isn't that obvious? Although I do have to say I'm quite stunned The Joker would buy something a bit nicer than a simple tank top…maybe it was on the clearance rack or something…

I stood up and glanced around my surroundings; there wasn't a single peep in the apartment complex, not even the sound of a cricket chirping as seen in the old cartoons when someone makes up a bad joke and the audience goes silent. How odd.

I walked over to the door arch and poked my head out to scan out the hallway, which was also vacant of human life. Did _the whole gang leave or something?_ I asked myself as I took a step forward and stood right in the middle of the hallway, musing as to why it was abnormally quiet. Maybe they did leave, probably to do their dirty work. I cocked my head to the side to see the door in full view.

My one-way ticket to freedom had finally arisen.

I darted over to the door and once I approached my hand shot out for the door handle, tugging on it with all my might. The door didn't budge.

_He fucking locked it._

This is perfect. Just perfect. My sarcasm is not as good as you think, but this was enough for me to blow fumes from my ears. I kicked the door hard enough to make it echo down the hallway.

"Great!" I exclaimed.

Ironically, he is not as dumb as I thought. I would have thought he'd be somewhat dumb — for crying out loud the guy wears makeup like a woman, just only to the extremes. My mind really did change about him when previously I said there was an innocent man underneath the makeup: he was cold hearted. End of story.

With my back facing the door, I sighed.

"How the hell am I going to get out of here?" I mumbled.

**:: :: ::**

Commissioner Gordon stomped around in his office, outranged of the predicament his family was currently in. His daughter — probably being tortured — was a hostage to The Joker, and now his son was pissed at him for purposively not getting enough help to find Barbara, in which he decided then he would find her without his dad's help.

Already, things were getting slippery on his end of the string.

His mind was interrupted when one of his colleagues, Greg Warden, a new employee in the Major Crimes Unit, suddenly swung the door open and stormed into the room as he was being followed by a trail of camera crew and news reporters. Camera lights were flashing off like fireworks as Greg pushed on the door to close it shut. When they saw Jim, they were taken by surprise when he turned his back on them.

The questions were flying out at him like boomerangs.

"Commissioner, is your daughter okay?"

"Commissioner, do you know if The Joker has plans to use her?"

"Commissioner!"

"Commissioner!"

By then, Greg was furious enough to throw a fit at the annoying reporters. "Get the hell out!" The door finally inched and he slammed it shut with his back against the door, sighing with relief in his tone. "Stupid news reporters."

Jim turned to him finally, wondering if all was well so far, especially since he wanted to know if they have found anything out on The Joker's whereabouts.

"Have we got any more clues on where they went?" He asked him.

Greg shook his head. "I'm sorry, Commissioner. We've done what we can to find little Babs, but we are still looking."

Jim sighed, despair shrouding him. "All I want to know is she alive…"

"I promise you, we _will_ find her."

"But _when_ is what I'm wondering. By then will she be the same Babs I used to know?"

Greg brought his gaze to the ground, not wanting the commissioner to see. "The Joker can't be that easy to inflict people."

_I like to think likewise_, Jim mused. _Look what he did to me._

"If you'd known him like I do, you would have been able to see how easily he _can_ do such a thing."

**:: :: ::**

I had been thinking about suicidal plans if I couldn't find a way to escape, but then again being suicidal was not a smart idea. It would prove to The Joker that crime can easily inflict people and their actions, his point he had mentioned at his interrogation days ago somehow rubbed off of me. Suicide was crossed off my potential ideas list, and it was ready to be filled with new ideas I'd come up with in the meantime as I wait for the next chapter to start in this crazy 'hostage' saga.

Just then, I heard a vibrating noise that was coming from the living room, and I walked over to find a cell phone scattering across the coffee table. To my surprise, it was my cell phone. I didn't know I still had my phone on me, I would have thought The Joker would have taken it or something...

There was a high pitched _bleep_ afterward, and the phone stopped vibrating. I picked it up and flipped the phone open; an enveloped appeared on the screen.

_New Text Message._

I chuckled slightly.

"Well, at least I have contact with the outside world." I said as I clicked on a button to open up the text message, in which then the message appeared.

_C:_

I was dumbfounded by the unusual message.

"Huh?"

I opened up a new screen to enter a text message to the mysterious person that sent me the smiley face. I imputed a few question marks as my response and clicked the send button.

Seconds later, a new message arrived.

_Morning, Sunshine._

"Looks who's awake finally!"

I jumped in my place and spun around on the balls of my heels to meet The Joker face to face once more. Surprisingly, he was without makeup on his face — his chest was bare showing all signs of brutality that had been taken upon his body for years. A gray towel was wrapped around his lower abdomen, with one of his hands clutching at the ends of it to keep it from falling.

Already this situation was awkward enough — there was a partially naked Joker standing right before me, and yet he kind of smelled…decent. For once he cared about hygiene.

I shook my head, reminding myself whom I was facing with at the moment. At the moment I shook my head, I come to notice a cell phone in one of his freed hands. He was looking at it as though he couldn't decipher something on the screen. "I would have thought it'd take hours for you to get that message — knowing how service is horrible around here. But I'm surprised you got it already."

I scrutinized at him as I lifted my phone up to my face. "You sent me those text messages?"

"Can't a guy at least get a gal's number for once?"

"Um…not mine in particular."

He grinned at his phone and threw it on the sofa where it landed carelessly in between the cushions. "You were wild last night."

"What?"

"Oh yeah — you were drunk as a skunk. You wouldn't have figured it out."

Oh, hell I did. "For your information, you drugged me up by giving me those weird pills."

"Well, sweetheart. Pills and booze _don't_ mix." He turned his back on me as he headed down the hallway; I followed along and into the same bedroom where he tied me up to his desk. I guess it was his bedroom — no wonder why there were so many disheveled suits in his closet. He walked behind his desk where he pulled out a chair and slides it across the grainy floor.

"Have a seat, Babsy." He said, before he gave me another chilly look of disgust when I didn't respond to his offering.

_Sit Babs or else he'll kill you._ My conscious told me.

The look kept in place, in the abyss of his irises I could see how pissed off he was. I scuttled over and carefully sat down as he began to walk towards the bed where he picked at a pile of clothing and put each piece on one at a time. He fastened the button on his pants and snapped on a silver keychain with something dangling off the end, he tucked the object into his pocket and strapped a belt around his waist.

"Now, apparently thing aren't going the way as planned," he said. "I think we started off on the wrong foot." With his hands extended out, he made both of his index fingers wind around in circles. "Why don't we reverse the clock and start over?"

"And what was your plan?" I asked.

He shrugged. "Just getting to know you for a first."

Oh great, he's going to ask me more about my dumb past.

"So you weren't a partier until you go to college. How was your relationship with your dad?"

"It's been strong since I was a teenager."

"Same for your mother and brother?"

"Yes." I said flatly. "I care about them very much."

"I'm not surprised to hear you say that." He adjusted the collar of his blue honeycomb shirt and buttoned it to the nip of his neck. "People say they love their family very much, even when they have had a troubled past."

"I wasn't troubled."

"Until the partying started." He chuckled, and slung on his green vest. "Were your parents partiers when they were young?"

"They never really mentioned anything about that, so I guess they weren't."

"Well, something must have inflicted the wild behavior."

"Hey, when you're in college for the first time, two things that come to mind are sobrieties and toga parties."

The Joker looked up as though he were pleasantly musing the ideas of college life. "Oh, the days of toga parties…"

My eyes broadened for a split second. "_You_ went to college?" I seriously wanted to laugh at the fact he actually went to college. It would be hard to picture a clown sitting in class with notebooks and textbooks at end. The typical nerd — although I couldn't see him that way either.

He squared his shoulders and answered, "For about a month, then I dropped out."

That's quite obvious of him.

"What were you planning on doing?"

"Something in the tech careers."

No wonder he's so good at making bombs. I happened to have remembered how unusually quiet the apartment complex was, and had the guts to ask him why.

"The guys headed out early, and Andrew is coming by with the truck." He slung on the light purple coach coat and his purple wool jacket on top.

"Are we going on some kind of adventure of yours?"

"Technically speaking, yes." He walked over to his desk and pulled out one of the drawers to get something; a white shopping bag was soon once he took it out, tubes could be clearly seen through the bag.

"Be right back for a second." He leaned down and spoke directly into my ear. "And don't try to nose your way out of this place. I forgot to mention this complex has traps all about."

I groaned. "I got that loud and clear, general."

For a moment I thought I heard him say "fucking bitch", but then again I could have been imagining things. I heard the bathroom door close shut as my mind wandered off, eyeing the details on the ceiling. My eyes etched out the grainy swirl patterns on the ceiling to keep myself occupied for a few minutes. Boredom struck like lighting by then.

I pulled out my cell phone from my pocket and examined the screen. In the right corner where there would usually be signal bars was an empty blank space with a tiny power line in gray shading. He was right about how bad it is to get service around this area, but that didn't stop me to think I was invincible. I pulled up on the screen a new text pad and began to write randomly to whatever number I chose in my contacts and clicked the submit button afterward. Second later, a message popped up.

_Message Failed. Error Code 94058._

Fuck, and at a time like this when I really need help? God knows what he has up his sleeves…

I felt my stomach churn, and a gurgle sound that was loud enough for a rodent to hear. Great, and now I'm about to die from starvation.

"J?" I heard someone asked.

My head cocked over to where the voice came from and saw Andrew standing less than a few feet from the doorway. In his hands were two paper Starbucks bags, and a tray of coffee.

_I'm saved!_ I sarcastically said to myself, knowing that I won't have to go on this weird trip on an empty stomach.

"Oh, hey, _Barbara_." Andrew said as he walked over to the desk, placing both bags on the wooden surface. I was taken aback when he said my full name, but it didn't matter at the moment when he opened up one of the bags and produced a huge blueberry muffin in his hand. "Want a muffin?"

Without warn, I hungrily reached out and swiped the muffin from his grasp and bit a huge chunk from the top of hit, gnawing on it with delight. Oh, my taste buds were in heaven as I savored the sweet taste of blueberry and sugar melting in my pothole of a mouth.

Andrew didn't know what to think when I was eating away at the muffin as though it was a piece of raw meat to me and I was the hungry tiger getting fed upon by his minions.

"Okay…" was all he said before producing an egg sandwich wrapped in parchment paper. The Joker had walked in when Andrew produced another egg sandwich and tossed it towards him; he caught it and unwrapped it, revealing the sandwich from underneath.

"Southern egg sandwich with cheese and sausage."

"You can read me like a book, Andrew." The Joker chuckled, taking a bite from his cheese oozing sandwich.

The gurgling in my stomach went away in seconds as I finished the last of my destroyed muffin.

"So, where are we heading, J?"

The Joker looked up from his half eaten sandwich and swallowed. "Just listen to what I say and it'll be no trouble finding this place." He crumbled up the paper he had in his hands and tossed it into the rubbish bin that was underneath the bathroom sink.

Andrew nodded as he ate away at his sandwich. "I'm ready when you are." He finished up his sandwich by engulfing the last hunk of it and swallowed it whole.

"Good then, we're off!"

Just as I was about to take a huge bite into my muffin, I felt The Joker's hands wrap around my arm and he pulled me up to get me going — he shoved me through the door and dragged me down the hallway. "We don't want to be late, dearie."

Down the stairs we went and out the front door where the truck was parked, Andrew swung the keys around his index finger when he suddenly stopped when a noise erupted our thoughts. Bullets were flying all over the place, hitting the brick walls and even the truck making tiny dents in it.

We were being shot at.

"Get in the truck!" Andrew yelled, swinging the door open so that the door would be a shield to his as he pulled out his gun from his back pocket.

The Joker and I ducked along the way behind the truck as we tried to avoid being shot at. I found myself jumping over and landing right in the bed of the truck, whereas The Joker stood behind, hesitantly taking his gun out and jumping in the bed with me. He knelt down, popping in the bullets all at once and cocked the safety off.

"Do you know how to use a gun?" He asked, and then a split second later there was a look of confusion on his face as though he just asked a dumb question. "Hell yeah you do!" He reached back and produced a pistol in his hands. "Happy early birthday!"

The gun landed in front of me, along with a tiny box filled with bullets.

"What? Hell no am I shooting at someone!"

"I thought you said you had the guts to do so?"

"_You_ precisely."

Well, at least I can get some target practices. I opened up the door where I loaded the bullets and closed it shut, unlocking the safety hatch right after. The Joker jumped out and swung the passenger door opened and started shooting.

Shards of glass were flying all about from getting hit; the tiny grains would land on top of me but wouldn't do any harm. At one occasion there was a huge shard of glass that almost hit me directly in the face — luckily I had the mobility to taunt away from it. Andrew looked like a master assassin with his aim; he was able to knock out two people in two hits. Who knows if he was a sniper back in the day.

The Joker had a good aim as well, but his shooting was a lot sloppier than Andrews. He just pulled the trigger like it was some kids' toy to him. Probably it was his toy, the same he felt for his precious knife. Ugh.

I seriously didn't want to get involved with the fight — I wanted to curl up into a ball and hide in the bed of the truck.

Andrew fired a couple of more shots, and then suddenly I heard him yelp loudly. "I got hit!" I saw him cup his arm where he was hit. My attention drew upward where a guy was poking out from the skyline of the vehicle. He was the one that hit Andrew since he made a fist in the air as a sign of victory. What a jackass.

"Babs," I heard The Joker yell at me. "Get the guy in the car!"

I was hesitant for a second before I heard The Joker screaming again. "Do it!"

And so I did.

I cocked my gun up and with the end of it pointed directly at the guy's chest; then, I pulled the trigger. The bullet went flying and smashed right through the man's skull, in seconds he was a goner and collapsed on the hood of the car.

I heard The Joker rejoice with happiness, "Nice one!"

He actually complimented on my hit?

Finally, we heard the surrender of one man's cry. "Stop! _Maroni_ sent us!" A man stepped out of the car with his hands up, flailing them in the air.

The Joker stopped shooting, eyeing the man with his beaming eyes. His Glasgow grin rose as the man slowly approached him.

"What do you scumbags want?" He retorted.

"Maroni has an offer you might like."

To his amusement The Joker's ears perked up, wanting to know more about the offer.

"Ten million, if you let him join your game."

"Haven't we been through this before?" The Joker asked him, "Does he think I'm stupid or what?"

"Thirty million — if he is able to claim Miss Gordon."

My mouth literally dropped to the floor. Why the hell does Maroni want me? Was I some sex object to him? Okay, so he did warn me about The Joker, but hell he didn't mention I was of interest to him!

The Joker wasn't certain by the way he looked at the man. His face was twisted with disgust. "And yet wants to join forces with me?"

The man looked a bit frightened since The Joker didn't like the deals he had to offer. He backed away slightly, offering another proposition before being cut off by The Joker. He reached out and grabbed the guy's shirt by his collar, having his face close to his.

"Tell Maroni if he wants to play games, then I got games for him. There is no way in hell that scumbag is going to be in my league — not after leaving our _previous_ bargain."

The man nodded.

The Joker looked up, musing. "I should probably send that message in writing…" He opened up the compartment box and took out a pad of paper, and asked Andrew for a pen. He wrote down his 'message', and later produced a tiny thumb tack from his hands. Suddenly, he flew at the guys head and thumb tacked the note to his forehead. Blood was oozing out from the spot as the guy stumbled back, and started running for the car.

The Joker bided him farewell by saluting him with his hand, and he turned to Andrew immediately when he noticed the blood on Andrew's arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah." Andrew said, wiping the blood with his sleeve. "The bullet scratched the skin, but didn't leave a puncture would at all." He sounded relieved that he didn't die — hell I would feel that way too if I were hit.

The Joker nodded, and turned to me with a huge pumpkin size grin on his face. "That was awesome!"

I felt myself blushing at that moment.

"You learned a lot from your father."

Yup, I was disgusted all right.

"We should be getting back on the road then." The Joker jumped in and looked back to see me just sitting there in awe. "Come on in, Babsy."

I swung my legs over and planted my feet on the ground on impact, and then I walked over and slid inside the vehicle with The Joker sitting in the middle. He reached behind me and pulled the seat belt over my head and strapped me in tightly. He seemed rather amused by the sudden events and that I shot a guy right in the head. "I wouldn't want you hurt on our trip." He said as he fastened the seatbelt, and relaxed his arms behind his head.

He smiled at Andrew and said, "Peel rubber, Andrew."

**:: :: ::**

"It is our intention that Miss Barbara Gordon is considerably a hostage to The Joker at this very moment as we speak." Greg Warden shifted in his seat as the news anchor, Mike Angel, spoke to him over the phone. GCN was the only news station that was allowed to have access to the major Crimes Unit on information about Barbara's whereabouts. Since Greg wasn't feeling comfortable speaking to Mike — Gordon mentioned Mike likes to stir up some trouble on occasion — he tried his best to share as much info as possible about the incident, and yet keep the information to a low key.

Mike's show was currently live as him and Greg spoke about the incident. "Lt. Warden, do you know if The Joker has plans to use Barbara in any of his schemes?"

"I can't be certain of that answer, but I will say knowing how this man is like with people, it is likely possible he does have some usage for them. I would suppose he has ideas to use Barbara, but again, we are uncertain."

"How is the family doing in this time of crisis?"

"The family is doing their best by keeping their fingers crossed and hoping for her safe return."

"Do you think the Commissioner is going to put the city on lockdown to prevent any stragglers from entering and exiting the city?"

_Hell, we have no power to do that._ Greg mused.

"Again, I don't know-"

"How are we supposed to react to this nonsense if Barbara isn't found?"

Greg rolled his eyes clockwise, and wished he hadn't stated this conversation in the first place. A one way retreat out of this mess would be by lying to Mike. But what exactly?

Just as Greg was about to throw a fit, Jim entered the office with David by his side. When they saw Greg, they couldn't help but laugh mentally seeing how Greg was struggling with Mike over the phone.

"I'm afraid I will have to cut out conversation short for today," Greg said. "My boss needs me for the moment."

After getting an acknowledgement from Mike, he hung up and started at Jim with his beady eyes. "For hells sake, Jim, I'm not your secretary."

Jim let out a quiet laugh. "I warned you." He turned to David and asked him to retrieve something from his car, and David responses with a nod and turned away. Jim walked over to his desk, his fingers tracking the leftover files he hadn't looked through in over a month.

"God, I hope the kid's all right."

"Jim, I wouldn't worry." He swallowed hard at the next statement. "If she were…dead…we would have gotten a notice from The Joker by now."

Jim sighed. "True." There was a hint of a smile when he complimented about his efforts. "I appreciate all the help you've done for me and my family."

"Not a problem," he said.

From out of the blue, David came back to the office, almost out of breath by the time he reached the door.

"Jim, get out of here quick!" His thump pointed behind him, and he ran out of the office again.

Both men ran with David through the hall and into the corridor where a whole bunch of cops were huddled together in a clumped circle, looking at something below their eye level. Jim pushed one of the cops aside to see, and to his astonishment his worst nightmare was yet to begin.

A decorative box was sitting in the hands of Ramierez.

_The Joker's notice_, Jim thought. He wanted to pass out.

"It's addressed to you, Jim." Ramirez said, and flipped the lid open to show him what was inside.

Inside the box was a lacy bra, and attached to it was a note scribbled on white parchment paper. Jim plucked the note out and read it to himself.

_Past scars seem to have an impact, don't they?_

_One man's actions is one man's regret._

_But I don't regret __mine__._

David looked over Jim's shoulder to see the bra sitting inside the box. "Is that…Barbara's bra?"

Jim didn't want to believe it. Was this a notice that Barbara was indeed dead, or that The Joker had done something nasty to her? Greg picked up the box from Jim's hands and looked inside to see the thing for himself. "I didn't think Babs was that girly…"

Ramierez's hand wacked Greg's across the head from behind.

Jim glared at him for a moment, and went back to reading the note. That was when he felt his whole body trembling at the last part of the note. Fear shook all over his body.

_At Two O' Clock this afternoon, Gotham's most reliable team_

_(aka Gotham Police Department and Crimes Unit)_

_Will be blown sky high. Who are we to trust now?_

_Ha HEha Ha ha hA_

Jim's trembling lips were utterly wordless as he gazed up at the clock above his head. The clock read one-thirty.

Immediately, Jim's anger exploded like a bomb, which startled everyone including himself.

"Get everyone out of this building at once!" Jim yelled. "Call all the major building beside us and tell them to evacuate their buildings and have them go to the nearest shelter!"

Everyone responded and darted all over to gather people and have them exit the building as soon as possible. The bomb squad was all prepped up as they searched the place out for any unusual device, and mostly everyone by then was escorted out of the building except for Jim, Greg and David. The men were huddled together as they gazed at the note.

"This man is sick." Greg mumbled.

David shook his head. "Tell me about it."

"Sir," one of the squad members ran up to Jim and told him their latest report. "So far we've found no evidence of any device. I have my team up on the roof and the others are looking on the third floor."

"Where in the blaspheme would he hide a bomb?" Jim wondered, and then suddenly drew his eyes on the bra again. He noticed an unusual blinking light coming from underneath the garment. His hands pushed the bra away — a device was blinking, indicating it was alive and ready.

The bomb squad guy squared his shoulders and extended his arms out to reach the box. "Okay," he said calmly. "Jim, I am going to have you give me the box."

Jim's hands darted out, wanting to throw the device at the man.

"Not roughly or else the device will go off!"

Jim sighed. "Fine. How shall this be done?"

"Slowly hand it over…" The man flagged his fingers to have the box brought closer to him. His plan was cut off short when another bomb squad guy yelled from the other room, "We've found a wire hooking up to a device!"

Jim winced, making the box fallout from his grasp.

"SHIT!" The guy yelled, and fell on his chest to grab the box before it would fall to the floor — and possibly explode. The box safely landed in his hands, relieve fell upon the men.

Jim sighed, but his relieve soon ended when he realized another device was set up in the building. 'Where?" He asked the man.

"The rooftop. He's trying to make the building collapse on itself."

"Disable that bomb as soon as possible!" He ordered.

The man saluted him, and ran back into the room and up the stairs along with the other men.

Jim turned his attention back to the predicament he was in. He spotted the man's name tag and asked, "Charles is your name, correct?"

Charles was holding onto the device with all his dear might, hoping it wouldn't corrupt.

"Correct, Commissioner."

"Help us disable this bomb before things get deadly."

**:: :: ::**

_Earlier Before…_

Already the ride to our destination was boring.

I could say that flat out to The Joker, and he'll wrangle me like a snake trying to snap my neck in half. Plan A to confront The Joker would be no success in fact, I had no plans at all.

It was late into the morning, roughly the same time most people would be heading to work, grabbing their mug of coffee from a local coffee shop; there were a few kids out on the streets either playing hooky for the day or college graduates looking about for jobs in their interest. A mother and daughter walked across the outlined crossway in our path, The Joker apparently was impatient about the two taking their time and wanted to run them over. Thank heaven's Andrew was the driver or else there would have been cruisers chasing after us for hitting a pedestrian.

Andrew made a sharp turn around a building, which was not that far from the town hall where my dad would usually pay a visit to the mayor to check up on things Gotham related: the latest crime schemes, new employees, all the usual stuff my dad would debate about.

The car came to a halt, the engine was roaring loudly when we stopped until it was cut short when Andrew killed the ignition by turning the key towards him. The Joker reached back to grab something behind the seat a laptop. He flipped the top of it opened, and a windows screen popped up.

"I have a task I would like you to do." He pointed at me, and dropped the laptop into my lap. "All you have to do is to press that button." He pointed to a gray colored button using the mouse below the keyboard.

I glanced up at him. "That's it?"

"Well, of course, then you'll have to keep an eye on the screen and see how progress is going."

Wow, sounds like a fun job to me.

The Joker patted the back of my head, knowing that I'd be exceeding well at the assignment. Again, he reached back and pulled out a black uniform; it had padding on the front, with a black vest made of what looked like bulletproof material. On the right side of the vest, right where the heart would be located was the image of a shield the same seen on GPD's cop uniforms highlighted in an tawny color were the words _Gotham Bomb Squad._

What in the hell was he up to?

Then, I got the idea as to why he wanted me to use the laptop. He wanted me to detonate a bomb.

"If you excuse me," he grinned, shoving on the uniform, "I have an important job to do."

Andrew stepped out and The Joker exited the car by sliding out, Andrew nodded when he was told to keep a good distance from wherever the hell he wanted me to blow up. He jumped back in and slammed the door shut, watching The Joker cross paths in front of the vehicle as he took out a cloth and wiped his face down to the bear skin he'd been hiding for so long. I watched him as he threw the soiled cloth into a green dump bin, the ones that are picked up by dump trucks, and he turned the corner.

My ears were blowing flames. He wants me to detonate a bomb? God, I could imagine where he would place a bomb in this god forsaken city…

If he were to be wearing a bomb squad uniform…

Oh shit.

I hesitantly looked at Andrew who was looking at his wristwatch tick each moment I was freaking out. He brought his gaze up at the sky, as though he were imagining figurative things to show up out of the blue, as in a cloud changing shape into a bomb or a crow swooping down like a missile would when it'd collide into the ground.

_He isn't going to be any help_. My conscious told me. _You'll have to figure out something…_

The idea kept on popping up inside my head. What was I to do to stop this bomb from exploiting itself to the public?

I turned my attention to the screen where the same window appeared, the button reading under the text _Self Destruct_. He wanted me to blow up the bomb so that it would look like I'm the bad guy for once. Here's a fact he would never understand: I would never do such a thing to my hometown, even if it means he'll kill me in the end. He hates Gotham to bits — and I still come to wonder why he does when he says it has to do with his wife — and he wants to prove his hate to Gotham by making it corrupt in his hands. There's so much hate in this world why would you want to take it out on those who've done no harm to you? To The Joker, none of those 'if's' and 'but's' about Gotham didn't matter.

_That can change though_, my conscious said. _Even if he says Gotham should burn for their actions, you can prove to him it's not entirely their fault._

The past day or so, The Joker mentioned to me the accident my friend went through was not entirely my fault, but the people who didn't put a hand forward were to blame. What if Gotham was the same? Were they to blame the misfortune of his wife? What did they do exactly to make him loathe them?

When my friend went from being normal to paralyzed, I wanted to take it out on myself, because I felt I didn't do enough to help her. The again when I come to think of those there at night, standing on the sidelines with their tails in between their legs — they hardly put a foot forward and didn't offer any help. So, could it be true to blame the entire city for their lack of support — by getting _revenge_?

Revenge can be seen in so many ways, and The Joker did it like a master.

Was I that courageous enough, though, to get my revenge?

The button stared at me like two beaming eyes ready for a staring contest. _You wouldn't do such a thing_, my conscious told me.

I shook my head. _I know, but who else am I supposed to point the finger at even if it _is_ their fault?_

I don't know whether my conscious was being knowledgeable or not, it kept on fighting back.

_To tell you the truth __—__ the whole accident was because you and your friends were drinking. Who was dumb enough to jump into the harbor while you were buzzed up?_

I felt my mental voice go mute.

_If you guys hadn't done that, then she wouldn't have to be living in a wheelchair._

My conscious was right about whose fault it was: all of us. We were the one jumping into the harbor…

"Get ready." I heard Andrew say to me, as he leaned over my shoulder to get a good look at the computer screen. "J wants it off in five minutes."

My mind was in hysterics by then. What was I to choose: revenge or innocents?

**:: :: ::**

The Joker was laughing mentally when he saw the first reaction on everyone's face when they found out there were bombs implanted inside and outside the police department. When the news was out, almost every news channel arrived at the station sitting outside with their cameras rolling as they recorded the event. From where he was standing with the Commissioner and his recruits, he could see from out the six foot window a crowd of people trying to get a peek inside; he was also taking note of how many people standing by would be blown away by this massive bomb he was holding onto. The other bombs planted throughout were starters, whereas the one he and the commissioner were _trying_ to disable was the mother lode — it'd be total chaos if it were to go off.

Exactly what The Joker wanted.

_You screwed my life, so I'll screw yours_, he'd repeat to himself — an eye for an eye as they would say.

"What do you need us to do?" Jim asked as his body shook with fear. His hands trembled while holding onto the bag he was provided, containing stuff that would help disable a bomb from going off such as pliers and electrical tape. And _knives_ that were secretly hidden— just his case his plan were to change course.

The Joker pretended to look concerned for the Commissioner's safety.

"There's a pair of pliers in my bag-"

Jim scavenged through the bag, producing a pair of pliers with plastic red handles. "This one?"

"Yes." He said.

Jim carefully handed the pliers to 'Charles' as he eyed the bomb; he helped him unwrap the box from its decorative wrapping and folded the sides down by using his switch blade to cut the sides down. The glowing from the flashing light grew brighter when the tiny device was exposed. Jim couldn't believe there was a live bomb sitting right in front of him.

"Do you see the wires here?" The Joker asked him, pointing to a purple wire hooked up to the device. It was in a loop form, almost the shape of a U.

Jim nodded, "Yes."

"It looks like it's the wire we need to cut since it's connected to the heart of the bomb. If we disable it, likely it will shut off on its own."

"Are you sure it's the one?" He pointed out to the other colored wires wrapped around it.

"I am _positive_."

_Huh, yeah right._ The Joker joked. _As if I'd really cut that wire to save their Goddamn lives._

Jim gazed up at the clock for a split second, and his thin frown grew deeper into the sides when he noticed the time on the clock had changed over a short period of time. "We have three minutes left, Charles!" He exclaimed.

The Joker's grinned slightly, but quickly hid his pleasure when Jim looked back at him to see what he was doing. With his hands surrounding the device, he slowly drew his pliers close, waiting for the right moment to dart out and watch the building burst to flames.

"Sixty seconds!" Jim yelled.

_Not for long_, The Joker laughed.

Time was ticking fast in Jim's head — to add on, he was concerned why Charles hadn't made a move to actually snip the wire in two. _Something doesn't seem right_, he told himself. The clock ticked away…thirty seconds…

"Charles," he said, "if you are that afraid of cutting a damn wire then I'll do it."

The Joker rolled his eyes at him. "I'll do it, Commissioner!"

Twenty seconds…

"We don't have much time! Cut the damn wire!"

For once The Joker had enough of Jim's whining; it probably was a good time to make a run for it as well. His famously well known Glasgow grin everyone feared finally showed up, so was the intoxicating voice everyone couldn't bear to heat at a time like this. Jim eye's broadened when he realized he was working with the devil the whole time.

"I'd love it sit and chat," he said, "but I must be going."

The Joker threw off his helmet, revealing his long green colored hair, and quickly he slid past the men. He ran through the hallways that lead to the back entrance of the building where his goons would be waiting. As he threw open the back door he trembled onto the pavement, and from across the street two of his goons were waiting patiently behind a dumpster. The truck was also in view, with Andrew and Barbara sitting inside, watching the computer he provided. He ran across the street without getting hit by the incoming vehicles wanting to watch the show; he slid across the pavement and stood directly beside a goon who pulled him behind the dumpster so that he wouldn't be seen.

The grin on his face was as wide as a watermelon. "Take cover, boys." He murmured joyfully, ducking as soon as he heard the screams coming from around the block. He counted mentally in his head.

_Five…four…_

He was rejoicing for the moment to arrive.

_Three…two…_

_I fucking did it,_ he mused.

_One…_

Everything went silent at last. The way he imagined it — or, _hoped_.

There were no flames.

The streets were silent of life, and the only thing The Joker did get to see was Barbara closing the laptop shut.

* * *

**Ha ha, I have no idea where the idea of tacking a note to a guy's head came from! That was just completely random. I think The Joker is amused about that. This was such an intense chapter to write, and it is exactly how I wanted to ended it. I bet you can't wait to see how pissed of The Joker will be in the next one. He he.**

**Please drop me a review and tell me what you think so far! Thank you! (:**


	10. Chapter 10: Confessions of a Crusader

Joker: *pissed off* What kind of sappy story are you conjuring, Catie?

Me: Hey, this is part of the plot. Sorry there has to be story behind you — even if you don't have one in the actual comics. (The exception is _The Killing Joke_.)

Joker: If you're so sorry about it, go jump off a cliff.

Me: *flips the birdie*

Stupid clown. But yes, I love The Killing Joke! I highly recommend you read it. The comic actually inspired me to have this story behind The Joker, although my story is completely different from TKJ.

**

* * *

**

Chapter X

The Joker was outrageously pissed.

I took another good look at him to define his facial features, the creases in his forehead grew thicker and the smile he originally had flipped upside down. From within his eyes I could see the fiery flames lick up against the corneas.

Yup. He was pissed.

"What the fuck where you thinking, Babs?" He yelled.

His horrific voice shook me from head to toe, but I forced myself to stand my grounds and face the beast like a warrior. As he stomped his was towards me, I made my move by harshly jumping out of the car, planting my feet firmly on the ground and ready for whatever he was going to do to me. Hell, I was doing the right thing by standing up for what I believe in — he had no right to kill my father and the people who've done no harm to him. I was able to save the thousands of lives that would have been lost if I had not done something about it.

I scrutinized at him when he wanted to slap me across the face with the back of his hand.

"I told you to press that goddamn button-"

"How dare you try to kill my father!"

His second attempt to slap me across the face was a success to him, and the results for me were excruciating pain that is indescribable in words. You would have to physically feel it to know what it's like, and hell I was feeling it all right. The pain was so excruciating, I wanted my head to burst so I wouldn't feel a thing — much rather than having to endure more of it from him, I wanted to die.

Praying for death was another thing — begging was what I wanted.

I wanted my conscious to do the work. _Kill me now so I wouldn't have to suffer. Give me an aneurism or something!_

_Don't think like that, Babs._ It said. _You're a strong woman. Fight back!_

Wow, for once my conscious was being helpful — and encouraging.

"How could you do such a thing?"

"It's my duty to make a point to these dumbass people about who is above the social order."

"This is absolutely childish!"

"To me it ain't."

I sighed, wanting to strangle him by his neck. I guess we'll have to deal with this like gentlemen. I flagged at him by using my fingers to indicate I wanted to speak to him in private. He rolled his eyes as I led him down the grimy alley, far away from the goons.

"What is your effin' problem?"

"Those cops don't deserve to fucking live."

Already things were getting a little off track when I wanted to have a personal talk. "Seriously, how could you say such a thing?"

"These men don't think the way they should when it comes to-"

"You are being so stubborn right now!"

He looked like he wanted to pawn me. "I can't believe this is happening."

"Well we should be thankful because of you."

"Hell yeah, cause it would have shown Gordon the bad cops-"

"They didn't fucking help _her_!"

Right when I was about to scream at his face, my voice goes utterly silent. I seriously wanted to scream at him, but then I started to realize why he was so upset with Gotham and its people.

For some reason the cops are to blame for Jeannie's death. Was their lack of help the reason why The Joker would in his power kill them for revenge?

"But why would you go through all of this?"

He hissed at the sky above, wanting to curse at those whom brought the curse upon him and his former wife. "Look what I had to go through for all these years to tell them it's their fucking fault she's dead."

"When was this?"

He eyes me as though he wasn't sure what I meant.

"When did she die?"

"Twenty years ago."

It was that long ago Jeannie died? I would have thought it was recent, but no, this really changed my whole view on the situation. Probably the people back in the day were retired by now or something. How on earth would these gentlemen know about Jeannie's sudden death?

"Half of those people back then are probably dead or retired." I explained, "Why would you take it out on these men when they have no clue that ever happened?"

He groaned, keeping his eye contact on the dusty pavement underneath our feet.

"They need to know what it feels like to have your heart ripped out of its cage." He brought his gaze back at me again. "Your father would know how it felt."

I scrutinized at him. "What?"

"He was there that night Jeannie died."

My heart was pounding heard inside my chest cavity; it wanted to explode like a set of fireworks lit off from the end of the string until the flames would lick the last of the string and spark off lights inside the actual firework.

The Joker snarled underneath his breath as he spoke. "He stood over her lifeless body like the grim reaper he is."

"My father is not that vile to let an innocent woman die as though she were nothing."

"Then tell me then: why does your father hassle when it comes to rescuing someone held hostage, or saving a person from an accident?"

I bit on my lower lip hard enough to make it bleed.

"By now he should have saved you from my grasp. If he really cared, he would have arrested me on the spot when I showed up inside that god forsaken building. He _should_ have recognized me by then."

It was true. Why didn't my father have the courage to make things right by rescuing me in the first place? He knew most of The Joker's locations in the past (hopefully all of that was true.), so why would he hassle now as though he were clueless?

The Joker's hand darted out, his gloved fingers wrapping around my throat like ivy. "If he were that courageous, he would have _killed_ me on the spot." I felt myself drowning from his tight grasp around my neck — my airway were closing by the second each time his grip grew tight —

A black shawl with its wings extended out like a black crow swooped down from above a metal balcony, its arms wrapped around The Joker like the tentacles of an octopus and knocked the wind out of him when he collided into him; The Joker fell forward into a wall as the shadowy image flagged behind him. The image was that of a bat — the Batman.

My heart raced as Batman spun The Joker around to face him, and whacked the beast across the face with his razor sharp hands. From out of the blue I heard a voice familiar to that of my brother, and when I did hear his cry for me I felt myself wanting to fall to my knees.

"Barbara!" I heard him scream, in which it made me spin around in the direction he was calling. I looked up to see Jr. leaning over the railing, holding onto what looked like a handmade rope made of bed sheets; he looked petrified when I heard The Joker's knife pop out from its locked position.

"Climb on and I'll pull you up!" He yelled.

I nodded and wrapped the handmade rope into a loop, and afterward I swung my legs into the loophole and tugged on it to get Jr's attention.

With all his might he tugged on the rope to get it moving, and finally he got a good grip to pull me up all the way. My feet dangled in the air as I was being pulled up to the balcony; I could see below The Joker taking a strike at Batman with his knife, stabbing it right into his gut. The goons had noticed the action and went to help their boss by doing whatever a goon does, whether that means they hold onto the victim and let The Joker do his dirty deeds or knocking him out by smacking an object behind Batman's head.

The rope continued to climb, at last I approached the balcony and threw my legs over and planted my feet on the metal mesh like floor. Jr. tossed the rope aside and embraced me into a hug. Of course, I accepted the heartwarming huge due in part that I was safe and sound with my family at my side.

For once it felt nice to have such an embrace, even if it had only been two days I was gone it's nice to have that good feeling when your family is with you on the challenge. I looked down at Jr. whose face was digging into my chest, glanced up and smiled. I noticed the tears streaming down his tiny face.

"Let's get out of here." He mumbled.

Again, I nodded and he showed me through the house — I'm surprised the homeowner actually let him use the balcony — down the flight of stairs and out the front doors where a set of cars were waiting on the sidewalk. There I met my father who also embraced me in a hug, with David trailing behind him. I guess they made it through the sudden bomb threat after all.

My dad couldn't let go of me when I tried to loosen his grip around my abdomen; maybe that's what you get for playing around with the devil for two whole days. My mother was beside him and wrapped her arms around Jim to meet me eye to eye, underneath her eyes there were dark spots as though she hadn't been asleep for months. When my dad finally loosened his hug he let David pass by so that he could hug me as well.

"Babs," I heard him mope when my face dug into his neck. "I can't believe this happened — I love you too much."

And when the words flowed out of his mouth like sweet honey, I found myself choking up on words.

Apparently I saw Batman walking towards us — no Joker of course — with his head down. From the looks of it The Joker got away…that's not a surprise to me. He pulled my father aside to speak to him in person, and after a short brief talk with Gotham's dark knight, he walked away and sped off on his Bat pod — which by the way looked wicked cool.

Dad approached me and David to talk to us personally. "The Joker's out there still, and from the looks of it he isn't too happy."

Well, duh.

"When we get back to the house, we need to talk."

My stomach churned when he sounded harsh on those last words.

**:: :: ::**

So mom was right: David and I should have left Gotham in the first place if we didn't want The Joker to kill us. Even if my mission was to protect Gotham, there would be loopholes through the course, and in the end the results would mean either one of us would die. I will have to admit, I was stupid enough to have started this mission when I came here. David and I were seated at the kitchen table with mom and dad sitting across from us, with coffee mugs in our grasps we took sips from them silently as we gazed at each other in question whether we needed to have a new plan or give up effortlessly since we knew the results wouldn't be good overall.

Their fingers trembled as they tried to start up the conversation. My father was the first to speak. "Your mother and I have been thinking lately about you two." His lips fumbled when he paused for a second to think.

"Sincerely, we love you two so much and we don't want anything to happen to you. We were thinking of having you guys leave Gotham for good…" Again, he paused, trying to sum up his whole point. He looked up, swallowing hard as though he had to speak his mind. "…but we figured since Babs wants to help, we decided you guys should be kept in a secure location with minimum contact with the outside world other than me, your mother, Jr., the cops and a few of our friends."

I noticed David was shaking his head in agreement to his plan.

"I spoke to Bruce a while ago, and he said you guys are welcome to stay at the penthouse or the mansion — whichever you think is suited best for you."

"Wow," I said. "That's quite an offer."

He grinned. "I know. I didn't expect him to offer that to us — the boy's quite thoughtful."

In the end, David and I decided it would be best to stay at the penthouse (part of the reason because The Joker already knew where Bruce's mansion is.) and that we wouldn't be far from the police station is case of an emergency. We packed up that night with all of our stuff, packing whatever we needed from dad's case (he actually let me copy off some files from his computer — technically the same ones I had originally coped for The Joker, and I still recall him having my USB still.)

Jr. was a bit disappointed that we were leaving, yet, he was glad we would be safe and sound with Bruce. He actually asked dad if he could stay with us; you know how young boys are when they see a hot girl stroll past them, especially since Bruce likes to bring home girls on occasion, and dad of course couldn't allow his hormones to act up and such at his current level.

David and I drove to Bruce's pent house early the next morning with Dad following behind us in his cruiser; Jr. offered to help us unpack into the lavish complex, and from the looks on his face when he entered he wished he were as rich as Bruce Wayne. The complex was huge, that's all I can say; with a modern sheik to it the rooms were lavished with fine stuff from stainless steel counters to the red maple bed frame sitting in the middle of the master bedroom. Most of the penthouse was made of glass windows so you could see the grand view of Gotham city below your eye level. I dropped my stuff into a walk in closet with David's stuff, and seated myself onto the plushy bed lounging back.

I was in heaven.

Bruce came by later on in the morning to check up on us, spiffy as he usually is he offered us a table at a restaurant and we agreed to meet him around two. After David and I finished unpacking our stuff we tidied ourselves up by dressing in our best attire, and drove to the restaurant where we met Bruce on the steps of the building; we were seated immediately by the waiter, following him through the crows of tables lavished with crystal clear vases and white table cloths towards the end of the restaurant where there was a booth reserved under Bruce's name.

The waiter stood beside the booth and offered us a seat. I slid into the leather booth along with David, and Bruce slid in at last once he handed a 'huge' tip to the waiter.

"This is nice, Bruce." David complimented on the etiquettes of the restaurant, tracing the details out on the clear vase sitting in front of him. "You own it, correct?"

"Yes, I do." Bruce laughed.

"That must have cost a fortune."

"Well, a check can go a long was as well as a piece of square plastic."

David giggled, snuggling up against me. "We really appreciate what you're doing, Bruce."

Bruce smiled and gestured at David as though he were bidding him. "It's nothing. You are more than welcome to stay for as long as you like. I know Bab's father a lot and get along with the family, so it's no biggie."

I felt myself blushing when Bruce complimented about my family. "It means the world to me, Bruce. Thank you."

Bruce's smile grew and he leaned over to give me a friendly hug. Our waitress showed up with a bottle of wine and poured us a few drinks, taking our orders and flirting at Bruce for most of the time. Once she left I found myself talking to Bruce about the whole shenanigan I had been involved for the past two days; he knew what had happened which was the reason why he offered us to stay at the penthouse.

Bruce asked me a lot of questions about my crazy adventure. "What was it like?"

"I don't know." I said, "Kind of strange if you should ask me."

"Did he do anything you?"

"Other than ripping my shirt apart and playing strip poker — then the answer is no, he didn't do anything nasty."

I noticed David cringe when I mentioned about playing strip poke with The Joker.

"But I have to say, I'm surprised Batman showed up to save me."

For some reason Bruce let out a strange laugh, as though he seemed to know something that I didn't. "He showed up?"

"Yes. With Jr. too."

"He probably made a deal to work with him."

I laughed. "Jr. would do such a thing…" I mused for a second and said, "…although…I can't imagine him in tights, a huge cape and a mask."

"Neither does me." David joked.

I turned to him. "What if you were, though?"

"I'd shoot myself before I'd expose myself."

I felt my pocket vibrating from my pocket, which was finally working after getting no service in the area where I was held hostage, and I produced my phone in my hands and checked the ID. It was an unnamed phone number; my guts told me something was fishy about the number as if I've seen it before. I put the phone on silence and let it go off on it's own. It did eventually, with a message on a screen saying I had missed a call.

"So you wouldn't want to wear undergarments over your tights?" I asked David, trying to play around with him.

He chuckled. "Huh, that would be the day I'd show off my tighty-whities."

My phone started vibrating again with the same caller ID number popping up on the screen. I once again clicked on the silence button and let it do it's course.

Bruce seemed a bit concerned about me not answering my phone. "Why aren't you answering your cell?"

"It's some stupid number I don't know. Telemarketers probably."

They wouldn't call twice thought, which means the only person who would have an unlisted number would have to be…I shook my head to prevent myself from thinking about it. For the thirds time my phone continued to vibrate, and by then I was fed up with the unnamed caller, so I picked it up and stood in my seat to exit the booth. "I'll be right back."

I stepped out and walked past the booth towards the woman's bathroom, pushing the door open to enter, and I strolled into an open stall checking underneath all the stalls to make sure nobody was inside. After, I pulled out my phone and flipped it open to answer it.

"What the hell do you want?" was my response.

Then, that chilly voice finally transpired from within the silence. The Joker sounded calm, but I could tell from the past event he was pissed at me for leaving. "So, you think running away from me is going to get you out of this mess?"

"Why can't you leave me alone for once?" I growled.

"When I know something isn't right, I try to deal with it one on one to clear things up." He sounded amused at the end. "Get my hint?"

Hell yeah I did. He was trying to provoke me the reminder when I tried to deal with him yesterday, that one on one chat we had which didn't last long anyhow. I gritted my teeth together.

"You know what's annoying about you?" I asked. "You try to piss me off over the littlest stuff."

The Joker tried to correct me. "I think you did that to _me_, babe, and that _wasn't-tah_ little."

I hissed, "Fuck you and your nonsense."

"You _will_ regret it."

"Regret what?" I laughed sarcastically. "Pissing you off?"

"The fact that you are as mad as those loonies at Arkham." He answered.

I was appalled he said that. My mouth opened as I waited for words to come out. "I am _so_ not a freak like you are."

"Eventually you will be, once you get to see things my way."

"So, blowing up innocent cops is your way of getting back at those who clearly didn't get to save your wife's life?"

He went silent. Yup, as usual, I pissed The Joker off even more.

"And by the way, why did you want those files from my dad's comput-"

"Clearly," The Joker said sarcastically as he cut me short from my statement, "I didn't want to tell you my life story in the first place and look where we are now." He sounded a lot more pissed by the fact I sounded like I was trying to kiss up to him so I could get some info off of him. "If you're trying to interrogate me or something just so you can get enough evidence for your father's case, then my dear Babs you clearly are in for a rude awakening."

After that, I heard a _click_ coming from the other end of the line along with a dial tone right afterward.

I pushed the off button to my phone and stampeded out of the stall, standing in the middle of the bathroom with my attention drawn to the floor. The reflection in the five-foot long mirror that was hanging behind the row of sinks revealed a copper hair women with disgust seen all over her face; I didn't dare look up again to see that reflection once more. I flattened out my ruffled top and stopped myself to see how disheveled I really looked. Just my overall appearance from within the mirror really showed the true Barbara Gordon that had been hiding underneath the layer of translucent skin it was my inner demon you can say. The past few days it had been secure by a lock that would withstand any trouble I'd encounter, which by now it was unleashed when The Joker finally had the ability to dig underneath my skin to find my weakness.

My weakness: being influenced by a madman and his reasoning. Wasn't that the whole point to his anarchy, so that people would understand and somehow be inspired by his actions? I mean looked what happened to me just a day ago. I was about to blow up a building because I doubt myself about our faults. Hell, he was probably right at this point. I was going a bit crazy — so to speak — or I was not thinking straight.

I exited the bathroom with a straight face as I walked over to the booth David and Bruce were sitting at. Our entrees had arrived by the time I showed up, and the boys were digging into them as though they hadn't eaten something so delightful in their lives. I scooted my buttock into the booth when Bruce stood up to let me in.

"So, who was it?" He asked.

I shrugged, hinting a quirky smile at him. "Some stupid telemarketer trying to bribe me into a deal of a lifetime." I laughed at the last part of my sentence.

Bruce nodded, also chucking about my ordeal.

"It's obnoxious how people can be these days."

Yeah, I couldn't agree more.

The rest of our luncheon went quite well — and yes, the meal was divine — after some time of having to debate in my head whether or not The Joker said was true to his word, whereas I was to keep an eye out for my own safety, I couldn't come to agree in terms of my safety (and David's) if staying at Bruce's penthouse _is_ the best decision to keep myself away from that maniac. Already I sounded freaked out of my mind even if I did want to stand up for my own rights.

It was quarter of four by the time we left the fancy restaurant with Bruce. As we walked through the glass doors of the entrance, David stalled in his footsteps when his phone went off; he answered it as we walked to the car, and from the looks on his face it appeared he had some unfinished business to do.

"Sure thing, I will be right over." He touched the glass screen on his phone to turn it off.

I turned to him right when I was about to open the car door, concern was seen all over his face which made me concerned as well.

"I guess your father needs me at the station. Do you mind if I borrow the car to get there?"

I smiled. "That's not a problem. Bruce won't mind driving me back to the penthouse." I glanced over a Bruce who was nodding at my statement, and I tossed the keys to David.

"Thanks, Babs." His face inclined close towards mine, and he planted a light kiss on my cheek. The butterflies in my stomach wanted to burst out. "I should be back later on tonight; if not, don't worry about me. I'd probably pass out in the station by then."

I laughed. "Okay then."

David walked to the driver's side of my car with his index finger twirling the key ring in circles; he stepped inside and the car roared to life, I managed to follow Bruce to his car while David pulled out of the parking lot behind us. As I followed the billionaire playboy, he seemed to take a liking that I would be driving home with him for the evening because A) he'd be seen with a hot chick exiting his car as we'd walk into the penthouse and B)…well, there was no B reason, but you get my point.

He pressed a button on his key ring set and the doors to the Lamborghini flagged open. Damn, I wish I had his car for once. He stood beside the passenger side of the car and flagged his right arm out as though he were a butler offering me a seat. "Ladies first," he laughed, and closed the door once I seated myself inside his car. Then, he sat inside and pushed the key into the ignition.

"To be honest," I mumbled, "I've never been inside your Lamborghini."

"Really?" He asked, stunned.

I shook my head.

"Well then," he smiled. "Would you like to give this baby a spin?"

My eyes broadened when he tossed me the keys. "Oh my God." I chuckled, astonished that I'd be driving Bruce Wayne's car for as long as it'd take to get to the penthouse. I walked over towards his end of the car right when he stepped out to help me inside; I slid into the seat and straightened my back, my hands clenching the steering wheel.

I pushed the keys into the ignition and twisted it clockwise, the vehicle was purring to its every beat.

Neat.

Bruce closed the door behind him and fastened his seatbelt as he instructed me. "This baby has more horsepower than you can imagine, so I'd be gentle on the gas pedal."

Of course, what do I do? I slam the car into reverse.

The wheels squealed to life, and the vehicle flew backwards. (Luckily there was no one behind us when I was driving out of the parking space.) Bruce reached over to grip the steering wheel and threw the gage into park with his free hand; the sudden shift in momentum threw me forward into the steering wheel almost making me slam my head into the gray tinted glass. My weight bounced forward and back after the impact with my chest hitting the steering wheel.

He sighed with relief that we didn't get into an accident.

"Sorry," I murmured.

He didn't seem mad about it, because when I gauzed up at him with my puppy eyes, he looked rather amused.

"Don't worry — I did the same when I first drove this thing." He chuckled. "Lightly press the pedal with your pinky toe."

And so I did, lightly this time. After I had shifted the car into drive, I pressed lightly on the pedal and we exited the parking lot with relieve. I turned onto the newly paved road and drove within the traffic that surrounded me like a pack of hyenas. The feeling of the car was exhilarating, as if you wanted to rev up the engine and make doughnuts in the road, or race a car at the lights and be the first to fly through them. I think I was smiling the whole time I was driving.

"This is so sweet, Bruce." I sounded like a kid in a candy store who wanted more candy — in this case, thrill — for their sweet tooth.

"Once this car passes," he pointed out, "give it some gas."

The car in front of me passed, making the road in front of me clear of any stragglers. I pushed harder on the pedal and off we flew down the road, Bruce's head bobbing like those bobble head toys that'd sit on the dashboard of a car and bounce to the momentum of the car.

Bruce was having a blast. So was I. I kicked up speed as I turned the corner and onto the next block where the street was vacant — this meant I had the ability to go even faster like those drag racing cars. I cocked my head at him. "Faster?"

"Hell yeah." Was his reply.

The car flew down the road like a rocket, I was screaming with joy.

Until all of that joy ended when a Ford pickup pulled up from the curb.

I eyed the truck for quite some time when I was driving down the supposed-to-be-vacant road; it looked all too familiar to the one Andrew would usually drive when he and The Joker would go out to do their nastily deeds. The blue chrome on the sides flicked on a light bulb in my head when I noticed the left side of the bed showed the reflection of two headlights of an incoming car from an alleyway or something.

From out of the blue, a monster sized commercial truck swung out from the alleyway and onto the street in front of my direct path. I slammed on the brake, making Bruce fly forward.

I couldn't believe what I was seeing. The commercial truck parked sideways so that I couldn't get by.

What the hell is going on? I asked my conscious, who didn't reply back until seconds later the sliding door of the truck opened, revealing a man in a purple trench coat, a green vest, and purple stripped pants all too familiar to my worst enemy. Not only that, but the facial expression on this demon didn't look too happy.

He whipped out a gun from his back and aimed it at us, then the bullets went flying.

"Duck!" Bruce yelled.

I hid behind the steering wheel and lowered my weight into the seat.

_He's trying to kill you!_ My conscious told me.

I felt Bruce's hand take a hold of my shoulder in which it made me twitch for a second.

"Get behind the back backseat," he told me, and slid in between the seats to duck behind the passenger's chair. I followed him and scooted myself behind the seat. Bruce was suddenly stripping off his clothes by the time I seated myself in a comfortable position to keep myself out of the eyes of The Joker. I scrutinized at him as he threw off his button up shirt.

"Is this some kind of death wish of something — to finally make love to som-"

"Hell no." He groaned. He tugged on a string from the middle seat — a compartment opened with a silver suitcase sitting in the trunk. He pulled it out and entered a code from the padlock; the locks undid and Bruce managed to open the suitcase without hassle. Then, he looked up at me. "Promise me you'll _never_ tell a living soul, not even your family, about this."

Again, I scrutinized at him. "What exactly?"

His hands dug through the suitcase and produced a black helmet that looked like a bat mask of something-

My mouth dropped to the floor.

"_You're_ Batman?" I exclaimed, until my words were muffled out by his hand covering my mouth.

"Yes, and don't even mention this to your dad!" He hissed. "He'll turn me into the cops and…you get the idea."

He released his hand from my out and harshly threw on the famous Batman uniform, cape and all, and shoved on the helmet, adjusting one of the ears by pushing a wire inside. He leaned over the cup holders to press a button near the radio set. It made a light beeping noise.

"I need you to drive to the harbor so you can sidetrack them while Alfred and I can take them down."

"How will-"

"Alfred is on his way as of now so when you reverse back up into one of the alleys so that I can get out through the back."

I swallowed hard. "Fine then."

I jumped into the driver's seat and threw the car into reverse, and slammed on the gas pedal to back into an alleyway as told. Once done, Bruce — aka Batman — slid in between the open door to exit.

"Lead them on the chase of a lifetime." He said before he'd close the door to leave, leaving me alone with a mob of men wanting to kill me.

Great. Just, great.

I shifted into drive and drove out of the alley, turning sharply to see a familiar face pass by in a dark truck and drive into the same alley I had dropped Bruce off. I stopped the car for a second with the back end facing the mobsters.

_You should give them the birdie_, my conscious laughed.

And that is what I exactly did when I stalled the car; I rolled down the window, stuck my arm out and flipped them off. I was mentally laughing by this when I finally head The Joker cursing under his breath.

_That's for pissing me off a while ago._ I mused.

Then I finally head the wheels of Andrew's truck spinning, in which I slammed on the gas pedal to take off.

**:: :: ::**

Alfred snuck through the alleyway without having to trigger an alert sign to the goons that were following Barbara to the harbor as planned. Driving slowly with his dimmed headlights, a dark figure appeared. He pulled beside the person and rolled down his window.

"Master Wayne," Alfred said, "shall I inform the police?"

Bruce walked behind the truck and swung the doors open to take out the Bat-Pod.

"No, I have someone in mind that can do that." He rolled the Bat-Pod out of the truck and swung his legs over the seat. "Find Barbara as soon as possible and switch cars so she can head back to the penthouse."

"You care a lot about her, don't you?"

"Alfred, that psychopath is never going to stop following Babs if I don't do anything about it."

"Right you are, Sir." Alfred agreed. "But don't you think that man has tricks up his sleeves."

"Yeah, I do know that for a fact." He nodded. "And if that does come to happen, then I will have to break that one rule I've always stressed on."

Alfred nodded, knowing what the rule is.

"If he dares try to mess with me and Babs — I'll _kill_ him"

* * *

**GAH! WHY DO I HAVE TO LEAVE YOU HERE? Even I can't stand the intensity!**


	11. Chapter 11: Behind the Clown Makeup

WE ARE HALFWAY THROUGH FINISHING THE STORY!

Joker: Thank god you're nearly finishing this up! I hate it when you fan girls have to keep on writing me into your stupid stories.

*evil snicker* _(refer to last post below story)_

Man, I feel so old now that I'm going to be a college student soon. I'm excited, and yet, the oldness kind of feeling has finally set in. I can do grown up stuff now (not speaking of drinking LOL) and just be chill.

And here's the chapter I conducted within the past few days after graduating from high school. Warning: gruesome sex ahead! And some bad profanity… (even though that - the profanity - had happened in every chapter so far.)

Joker: FINALLY! I get to torture Babs!

And you finally get to know Mister J's past and how he became insane! (I also advise you the story is a bit long, so please don't fall asleep on me!)

Joker: …SHIT.

* * *

**Chapter XI**

So far my supposed-to-be-perfect evening was turning to be a complete disaster because A) I was being chased by The Joker and his fucked up goons and B) David probably doesn't even know what the hell is happening. To add on, I come to find out Bruce has been Batman for all long and that he ditched out so he and Alfred can stop these maniacs from killing me.

How else could this get any worse?

I'm leading this maniacs on a high speed chase through Gotham towards the harbor where purposively Bruce is going to kick their asses. I could ditch out on the plan, make a run for the penthouse and lock myself inside. Yes, that sounds a lot _safer_ to me.

The pickup following me from behind kicked up speed and slammed against me from the right side of the lambo, causing me to swerve into the other lane where an incoming car pulled to the side for me to pass.

"JESUS CHRIST!" I screamed.

Does this guy find it so amusing to see me a damsel in distress?

I poked my head out the window to scream at the maniac trailing behind in his monster tractor trailer. "This is not a game of bumper cars you fucking clown!"

The driver — not The Joker apparently — was laughing, and kicked up speed as well to box me in next to Andrew driving the pickup. I was surrounded…great. The sliding door opened where a Joker was standing, hovering over the side with a gun pressed against his side.

"I would have loved to have shot the guy sitting with my cupcake," he cackled (and yes he just called me cupcake. Gross.), "but we _can_ improvise…" he hissed at the end, and his facial expression changed from being calm to a psychopathic murderer gaze.

His gun whipped out from his side and the bullets shot out, hitting the metal like tiny pebbles making etching marks on the car. My hand flew out in front of my face.

"What the fuck?" I screamed as I took cover from getting hit.

"You seriously don't know how pissed I am with you."

"So, someone who betrays you is your reason to kill?"

"I don't just kill for my enjoyment, Babs — I just do what my gut believes is right."

"Did Jeannie ever betray you?"

The Joker frowned instantly, flames were licking from inside his eyes. A loud shot came and hit the steering wheel, nearly inches away from my chest.

Fuck!

"I'm asking you a question!" I screamed. "What did Jeannie do?"

"It's not your god damn business to know if she lied to me or not."

"_You_ must have."

"Fuck, I have before." He snarled. "Doesn't everyone lie?" He shot again, and this time I slammed on the gas pedal and took off before his last bullet would hit me in the face.

I sped up some more so I could be as far away from the goons as possible, when all of a sudden a huge motorcycle past me with a person in a huge black cape driving the bike at an angle to turn and face the tractor trailer. I could hear The Joker's laugh when he spotted the same person stopping in front of them. "It's the man of the hour!"

Bruce leaned into his stomach and the vehicle sped up to the tractor trailer, I noticed something popping out from the front of his Bat-Pod.

"That bastard better not flip this truck!" The Joker roared, and pulled out a huge gun from behind one of the goon's backs.

My mind started panicking right when he shoved in some bullets into the new gun he was about to use; and soon, my instincts kicked in and I slammed on the gas to get as far away as possible from the psychopath. I didn't care if I was going a hundred down the road even if there would be a cop ready to arrest me for reckless driving the only thing that mattered the most was my life. And Bruce's but it appeared he had everything taken care of since seconds later I heard the truck come to a squealing stop.

I looked back to find no one following, in which that made me smile to know I wasn't on their radar for the meantime. I drew my attention back to the road and spotted Alfred sitting beside a vehicle with David talking animatedly on the phone; he probably found out about the whole ordeal and wanted to be sure I was alive, thus meaning his manly side would show when he would run up to me, give me the biggest hug in his life, and grateful nothing had happened. And surely when I pulled aside where the men were waiting Alfred walked over to open up the door for me. I looked up at him baffled when he swung the door open as though he were on a mission.

"I will take over my dear," he grinned.

Again, my face reacted in a way I would have felt embarrassed if I saw myself making a strange face in a mirror. "Is this some sort of plan you and Bruce planned ahead of time?"

"Technically speaking, yes."

I stepped out and let Alfred close the door as he poked his head out to talk to me. "The cops wanted this man found, so we decided tonight would be the night The Joker's havoc would end."

Thank goodness for that.

"Did you guys want me to help?"

"We're all set for now. We're going to boycott them into driving to the harbor where we will have cops ready to prosecute them on the spot."

I shrugged, and said, "Do be careful, Alfred."

He smiled and pulled away as David ran over to me it was no surprise when he gave me the hug I mentioned before, but it was a surprise when he discovered I was leading these men on a chase. With my head snug underneath his chin, I drew my eyes up to see David staring at me like a vulture. "What in the hell were you thinking, Babs?"

My eyebrows rose. "Sorry?"

He sighed, and shook the thought off. "Well, I suppose it's been a long night. How about we head back to the penthouse for the evening and we'll talk things over?"

David drove the car to Bruce's penthouse, mute throughout most of the ride until we reached the property was when he began to brag about how I've put my life in great danger whenever I tried to face The Joker off like two roosters fighting in a death battle to prove whose stronger than the other. Okay, so he had a point I was crazy to fight this man, but wasn't my reason to stay in Gotham for as long as I shall live was to beat The Joker in this untimed battle?

"There's going to be one good day when you'll regret fighting him."

"You sound just like my parents, David."

"That's because I've thought through this long process and came to realize your parents are telling the truth."

"What are you telling me?"

"Barbara, The Joker is not an innocent man that can be transformed simply by consent. He _will_ kill you out of enjoyment."

"I as you this: how come he hasn't killed me so far?"

"Go knows what that bastard has for plans…" His sentence was cut short when his phone went off and answered it. There came a long pause of questioning when suddenly a smile appeared. "Wonderful!"

"What?" I asked.

He looked at me and said joyfully, "They caught The Joker."

Usually when good moments come your stomach fills with butterflies and your face gets warm; as for me, I was getting none of that. "Good." Was all I said as my mind pondered about the news. Once we got to the penthouse, I felt relief struck me like lightning.

David and I entered into Bruce's penthouse, tossing our coats aside, holding hands while we sat down on the sofa to watch the latest news on The Joker's arrest. There the screen showed an image of a man in face paint being escorted to a heavy metal car with the doors closing on him once he got inside. I felt that sudden relief again when I no longer saw the face of the mass murderer again. Maybe this was a good feeling to have even without the butterflies in my stomach.

"I can't believe they caught him." I murmured as I laid my head against David's shoulder, and closed my eyes for a second to recap the past few days I've been through. I pictured the school shooting with Jr. hunched up in a corner as he tried to strive for survival, giving me the thumbs up for getting The Joker caught in action. I mentally smiled about it as the image changed to The Joker and I having our one on one conversation as we were playing poker, the same time when I began to learned that The Joker was a happily married man before he became psycho. My eyes fluttered open again to find myself alone on the sofa with my head leaning against a soft cushioning, that being my jacket I had thrown onto the sofa.

I stretched out the kink in my back and eyes the TV that was still projecting the Joker-related news. Already I was getting sick of it, so I picked up the remote sitting on the coffee table and shut the TV off, and after, I got up and walked over to the fridge to grab myself a cold bottle of beer — hopefully Bruce won't mind having me borrow a couple of his drinks. The liquid flowed down my throat, soothing away the numbness I had after having to swallow the truth whole that The Joker was long gone from my life. He'll be lock up in Arkham in no time, and I wouldn't give a damn if he rots in his cell or even in that case, dies.

I brought the beverage with me into Bruce's master bedroom and slid into a nice pair of female boxers and a huge t-shirt, plopping myself onto the bed with my laptop sitting in front and my legs crossed in the air. Wanting to my mind of the madness I decided to work on my father's case by cracking the codes provided from my father's files.

I clicked open a window and clicked on one of the files; most of it had to do with what I had previously hacked for The Joker, especially that obituary I found of his wife.

_He probably was upset over his wife's death_, I said to myself.

When I read through the same obituary again I still didn't find a clue to his real name; I sighed, disappointment filled the atmosphere. There has to be something that'll give me enough evidence…

I opened up a web browser and typed in The Gotham Times into the URL, which brought me to the homepage with all the latest news; currently they were airing the latest on The Joker's goons that were taken down by the Police. I clicked on the obituary button; a new page opened, giving me the opportunity to search any obituary article from any date. Out of curiosity I decided to enter in the date when Jeannie's article came out.

_Who knows if something really interesting comes from it_, I mused.

I knew for most sites they let you go up to a certain date, nevertheless they store the old obituaries into a file, so the only way to get an obituary from twenty years ago would be to hack into The Gotham Times. After I imputed my secret hacking code, I clicked the search button, and seconds later an article appeared with a picture and all.

My mouth hung open for what felt like hours.

_She looks exactly like you!_ My conscious yelled.

_No shit._ I said.

It was true. The woman who appeared to be hugging her future psychopathic husband in the picture provided looked so much like the woman who was currently searching for her obituary — me. She had a small frame for her age, about a foot shorter than her husband, her hair was a coppery blonde with an orange tint to it, her eyes a luxurious blue — and her smile was beyond speak able.

She really did look beautiful back then. People would have told The Joker he'd won the golden ticket.

I scanned the article some more and I found my lucky golden ticket sitting in front of my face. Her last name.

Jeannie Victoria-_Napier_.

It got even better when I found a name underneath the picture caption.

_Jeannie Victoria-Napier with her husband, __Jack Napier__._

A grin appeared on my face as I picked up a cordless phone on the bedside table and dialed my father's number. A voice appeared afterward.

"Comissioner Jim Gordon's office — this is Greg Warden speaking."

"Hey, Greg. It's Barbara Gordon."

I could feel Greg smiling at the moment. "Hey Babs, how are you feeling?"

"Great! Is my father around or did he leave already?"

"Jim is currently with someone at the moment, but is there anything I can do for you?"

Why not? He's working with dad. He'd probably be useful for the case.

"Yes, indeed. You will not believe what I found from my investigation."

"And that might be what?"

"The Joker's name."

Everything went still for a second until I heard Greg's voice. "Shit! How did you do it?"

"Technically, I had to hack" — yeah, I had to or else I wouldn't have gotten anything — "into The Gotham Times by imputing a code into their search engine, and so when I did it brought up his wife's original obituary."

"You are awesome, Babs!" He rejoiced. "Seriously, that's going to give us a huge lead into the case."

I smiled. "Do you have a pen and pad ready?"

"Certainly I do."

"Okay then." I gazed back at the article to read out the name. "It's-"

Suddenly, there was a huge _ping_ sound as though a light bulb would burst from too much energy and the lights suddenly dimmed; the entire complex was in the pitch dark. I couldn't hear Greg's voice after the sudden blackout happened.

"Greg?"

There was no response, not even a dial tone.

The light from the laptop screen dimmed since the power cord wasn't working anymore, so to speak the two hour battery from my laptop was my only source of light for now. I picked up my laptop with the screen facing forward to light the way.

I'd assume Bruce would have flashlights in this place…

I maneuvered around tables and chairs without slamming into any of them, and scuttled towards the open kitchen where my feet squeaked on the linoleum floor as I made my way to one of the cupboards and opened it to find a whole set of batteries and a pair of flashlights ready to use. I took one of them out and flipped the switch on.

Now it was the search for my hopefully-it-didn't-run-out-of-battery cell phone. That's going to be an adventure.

I held my flashlight in front of me and searched the living room from head to toe, from corner to corner I aimed the glowing yellow light at objects to be sure I wouldn't hit anything in my way, and eventually after some time of searching I found my cell phone lay across a coffee table with less than half of its battery life already used up from being on most of the time.

I dialed in David's number (since he was lucky enough to know Bruce's cell number and I wonder why I don't) and waited for a dial tone. His answer machine popped up and I went on with my message.

"Hey, David," I sounded really courteous — more like head over heels — "It's Barbara. I don't know if this affected you or not, but the power is out up here in Bruce's penthouse. Would you mind giving me a call back, and hopefully give me Bruce's number so I can ask him where the generator is? Thanks."

I hung up, praying that David would get the message in time.

An icon flashed on the screen with a picture of an envelope in the shape of a chat box, so I pressed on the phone icon to listen to the message.

_Barbara __—__ It's David. Hopefully you're all right after that weird incident. Right now it's six-thirty, your father is currently meeting with someone from the National Guard to help us stop this fucking madness with The Joker. God, Babs, this guy is a fucking lunatic __—__ I can't believe he still hasn't done anything to harm you. I mean __—__ I would have figured he'd done something to you during those two days captive._

I hoped for that as well.

_Anyway, keep safe and keep an eye out for that bastard. If something happens, call me or Bruce…_

Most of David's message was a rant, but thankfully he did provide me with Bruce's number to call him. So after I finished listening to the message I dialed Bruce's number and was welcomed by the voice of Bruce Wayne.

"Hey, Babs!" He cheered, "What's be happening?"

"Well, want the whole truth or not?"

"Sure."

"Did you lose any power at the mansion? I lost it here at the penthouse."

He sounded as though he wasn't certain of what I was talking about. "No, I haven't." He said. "There's a generator on the floor beneath; pull the switch up and you should be fine for the next few hours or so."

"Okay then," I said. "Where are you by the way?"

"I'm with Alfred in the truck. We just rounded up the last of those scumbags."

Thank heavens for that.

"I didn't realize The Joker had this many recruits."

"Hell. I'd expect more."

"I couldn't agree." He said. His voice didn't sound as calm anymore when I heard him mumbling to Alfred about something Joker related. "However, that doesn't mean we have caught everyone in the act of this nonsense."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Apparently," Bruce sighed. "We don't have the real Joker."

The whole room went into a spiral.

_"What?"_

"Some asshole decided to switch spots with The Joker and have the police arrest him than the real guy. By word of mouth from one of the goons he stated they have unfinished business."

My mouth went dry instantly when I realized what The Joker planned out.

… _then my dear Babs you clearly are in for a rude awakening._

Fuck, why do I always cause trouble?

A hand flashed out and covered my mouth, making me scream from the tops of my lungs. I look back to see The Joker in his blue honeycomb shirt and his purple striped pants, his makeup was smudged with dirt and grime from his forehead to his chiseled chin.

"Say one peep and I'll fucking kill you."

My eyes broadened when Andrew step forward with his gun sticking out in front of him, surrounding me like a hungry vulture, his eyes as dark as the man preventing me from speaking.

After tossing my phone aside, The Joker wrapped an arm around my chest and dragged me across the floor with my feet kicking away and my screams muffled out by his hand. When all seemed at fail, he finally eyed Andrew for his immediate attention, and Andrew ran up without a hassle and took a hold of my feet to prevent them from kicking about. Soon I was airborne, my body dangled in their grasp as they dragged me towards the door.

I am not going to let them win!

With all my might, I drew my knee in close, and gave Andrew a good kick in the nuts. I heard him make an _oomph_ sound as he fell back.

"Is it that hard trying to pick up girls, Andrew?" The Joker asked him, chucking at the end when he noticed his statement sounded more like a joke than a direct question. He squeezed me tight when I tried to break free.

Andrew, who was still clenching onto his sore spot, slowly rose and knelt over when the pain grew unbearable. "If you want to do this, then go ahead." His back arched, he saw a plasma screen TV sitting in front of his very sweat-gleamed face. There was a twinkle in his eyes when he grinned awkwardly. "I'll get the loot while you take care of _her_." His eyebrows rose at me, and he turned away to begin unplugging the cords to the TV set.

The Joker looked down at me. "You heard the man — lets scadoodle."

He released his hand from my mouth, which was manageable for me to speak my mind.

"I'm not leaving." I groaned.

"Whether you like it or not, you're not leaving my sight so I'd listen if I were you."

"Why is that?"

He rolled his eyes clockwise, pulling me towards the kitchen. "You ask so many questions I can't bear to listen to." As he dragged me across the linoleum floor, he was able to get a glimpse at my laptop that was still glowing for being on battery power; he leaned to the side to look at the screen and stopped suddenly when he saw the image on the screen. I saw what he was looking at, and gazed up to see his reaction — there was utter shock seen all over his face.

Andrew finished unplugging the TV when The Joker watched the laptop screen, and pushed the television through the door without looking back to see if anything was wrong or not. He just strolled out like any ordinary person would.

I continued to stare at the face painted man while I haltered myself up with my back against him, and made eye contact with the computer screen once more.

"Why does she look so much like me?" I asked, looking back at him for an answer.

There was no answer though coming from this man, only the silence of a man who had been hiding his dread for so long, all of that relinquished at the very moment when he came face to face with the reality of his past — that being a simple picture shown on a computer screen — it gave him a good kick to finally realize his inner feelings to see his wife again in pixel form.

Was it a good enough kick, though, for him to finally see the destruction he did to this city because of Jeannie?

"I promised myself I'd never want to see the same picture."

I spun on my heels and turned to him. "Why?"

"It's too hard to choke it." He bit on his lower lip without looking at me, as though he trying to hold it all back. "Lately, though, I doubted myself about you, willing to see if you were like her or not…"

My teeth clenched together when he finally said it.

"…you remind me so much of her."

And without warn, he planted his lips onto mine.

His weight had knocked me off balance, which because of that made me toppled onto the couch with him on top of me, still hungry for more. I felt his chest fall on top of my tiny frame with both of his knees digging into my sides; he positioned himself on top of me so that my legs would be useless if I were ever to kick him, with his upper torso leaning into my chest he hungrily went in for another bite at my lip as I continued to fight back. Both of his hands shot out, pinning mine to my sides.

I moaned hastily when I felt his tongue dig through my mouth so that he could feel around for my tongue, and when he did his tongue started to wrestle with mine.

Okay, let me be honest: even if it was totally unexpected, this situation did have the pros and cons — the pro: for I have never been kissed by a guy before, I never knew how the feeling would be like. Now that I was feeling it, I felt so…nice. And the con: it's The Joker who's kissing me, which made me want to puke.

I felt his mouth release from mine, his lips traced down from my lower jaw to my nip of my neck and at the same time he was occupying himself by having his hands trail up my boxers, tugging onto the elastic band that was keeping my boxers from falling.

No. No. No.

Just when I was going to yell at his face, his lips glided up my neck and were planted instantly on my lips, the moisture from his lips built up while he tugged down my boxers; carefully, his teeth bit down into my lip to keep me from screaming, moans peeped through my throbbing lips when I tried to beg him to stop.

The boxers finally slid off, and I felt his hand go to unbutton his pants.

No!

He finished unbuttoning them and continued to hungrily go for my lips, devouring his pleasure while I tried to feed off the evil trying to devour inside me. Then, with his knees buckled tight, he gave a good thrust into my womanhood area. I was screaming like a banshee as his thrusts continued to grow painful by the second. One of his legs listened up from pinning down one of my legs, and when he did I drew my foot close and kicked him square in the abdomen, making him tumble off of me.

I hesitantly got up the couch to run until his hand reached out and grabbed my ankle. I felt my weight shift, and suddenly I was falling flat on my face with my nose slamming the tiled floor, there was a loud _crack_ sound afterward. I raised my hand to my nose and the slightest touch made me squirm — blood was pouring rapidly from my nostrils.

I felt his hands clenching onto my thighs for support as he got up slowly, moaning from being kicked in the stomach.

I let out a scream so loud it made my ears ring.

"_NNNOOOO!"_

…And that scream had suddenly awoken me from my sleep. (I didn't know I had even fallen asleep in the first place.)

My body went numb as my heart pounded inside my chest as though a ticking bomb was about to go off.

"Barbara?" I heard David moan from inside his pillow where his face was stuffed in between his pillow and mine. His head rose with dark circles underneath his eyes — due to the lack of sleep he endured during these past few days — a hand was placed on my arm where he suddenly shifted as though he was given an electric shock.

"You're skin is clammy — is everything okay?" He asked.

I reached over to the side where David touched me, and I felt the moisture on my skin he mentioned. Was I sweating in my sleep?

I shrugged. "Yeah," I said uncertainly, "I'm okay…"

Even I wasn't sure as to why I was so upbeat from one moment to the next. Okay, so maybe the nightmare had to do with it. That's reasonable — yet, never have I been this uncertain in my life.

David passed out eventually after he was awoken by my shift in movement, whereas my mind couldn't get rid of the fact the nightmare I had has a reason for me to be frightened: even if you try to convince the devil believe in God, you can't compel him to do so. I have had my drawbacks with The Joker even at this point of time when convincing him to believe in reason — it has not been an easy task to make him see the destruction he's caused for us. I mean — maybe Jeannie didn't die because Gotham didn't care; maybe they _did_ care in the first place but yet she couldn't be saved anyhow.

With that being said, the nightmare was more than a regular message from my subconscious, but rather than a warning about what would be to come if I wasn't careful with what I say or do, or else The Joker by then would officially kill me.

I fell back into my fluffy pillow and forced my eyes shut, when suddenly I heard my phone vibrating on the bedside drawer almost falling off the edge when I reached over to grab it. I opened the screen with the icon of an envelope indicating a text message; my thumb pressed down on one of the buttons to open it, and the message appeared.

_If you want to know what __really__ happened to Jeannie, then meet me at The Square Plaza today at seven._

_-Andrew_

I found it odd that Andrew managed to find out my phone number through The Joker purposively, but then again, he sounded as though he wanted me to know the truth by desperately letting out a plea as a reply to my curiosity. I thought about it for a while whether I should trust him and meet him at the place, and decided eventually it would be worth the risk of knowing the truth from a likely source rather than walk in circles without a clue if I was going in the right direction or not.

I managed to sleep once more that evening, and found myself waking up at six on the clock just an hour before Andrew and I were to meet face to face again — hopefully he hasn't decided to kill me like he was about to just a day ago. The bed was unusually soft when I woke up; turning to my side I noticed David had left for the day to head to the station to continue his work from last night (before being interrupted by my dilemma with The Joker and his slavish goons.) I stripped the sheets off of me and noticed the accumulation of sweat from last night stained in the blankets — I guess I did sweat a lot in my sleep. After stripping off the old sheets from the bed, I produced a pair of black slacks and a geometric blouse and threw him on quickly so that time wouldn't be wasted on my clock if I were to have a serious conversation with Andrew.

By the time I finished touching up on my hair and applying a little bit of lip balm, I walked over to the key ring set and plucked off my car keys and closed the door behind me.

About ten minutes later after having to drive through the western end of Gotham, I arrived at our destination, and parked into a convenient spot so that Andrew would be able to spot out my car in the plaza; surely in no time I recognized Andrew, walking over to my car from behind with a slanted grin and his hands in his pockets.

With his back arched, he approached me by taking his hands out from his pockets and offered me a handshake. I cringed for a moment when his hand flashed out, but eventually my nerves were calmed by his soft sympathetic voice.

"I'm not here to hurt you or anything." He placed his hands back into his poets to tug out the insides of them. They were empty.

I shrugged then. "Okay."

I followed him as he walked into an antique coffee shop, ordering two hot coffees for the both of us and paid — yes, surprisingly — the cashier with a handful of one dollar bills. After thanking the cashier he handed me my coffee and again followed him outside and seated at a black mesh table with his hands clasped together.

"So, you knew J had a wife before, correct?" was his first question to start off our serious conversation.

I nodded. "I knew that after reading through some files he wanted me to steal for him."

His freed hand went scavenging through his coat pocket and produced a thick piece of paper, and handed it to me. "I found this when I was in his room once, and since then he still doesn't know I have it."

I took the thick paper from him and gazed down at it. To my amazement, it was the same picture I saw in my dream.

"She's really pretty." I said, smiling a little.

He nodded as well. "When I first met you I had to do a double take when I found the picture, and I thought for certain you were Jeannie coming back from the dead or something." He chuckled.

"Then again, I realized you were nothing else but Barbara Gordon, the Commissioner's daughter, with similar looks that to Jeannie."

I placed the picture down and looked up at him. "I really do look a lot like her, although I doubt we have any relation as a fact." I bit down on my lip as I mused about The Joker. "Do you think that's why The Joker doesn't really want to kill me because I remind him of her?"

"I suppose that's the reason." He suggested, "To be honest, if you didn't have any similarities to Jeannie you would not have been here right now; he can easily throw away his 'possessions,' but anything that's related to his past he seems to have a hard time letting the rope go."

"You mean to tell me he actually thinks — or even speaks — about his past as a daily thing?"

"Yeah." He said. "I know — it's hard to believe a man like him would mention something like their past life when things were happier then."

"How would you know?"

He went quiet for a moment and brought his attention back to me. "I used to be friends with him before his life changed."

My mouth wanted to prop open, but I couldn't make it.

"Well, we're still buddies but it's nothing like it used to be." He said honestly.

And so, his story began.

**:: :: ::**

_Andrew's point of view._

"I clearly remember the day him and Jeannie got married — I was his best man and the _only_ groomsmen since they wanted a small, traditional wedding with immediate family members and friends. It took place on a ranch Jeannie's family owned at the time, on a beautiful day that fitted perfectly for a wedding like theirs, and the results to their wedding were beyond words I can describe. They were happy is the only thing I can say.

"They went on their honeymoon days later to Acadia National Park in Maine, and from what he told me their trip was simply a delight. It made me wish I was a newlywed back then." He laughed. "He eventually found a good paying job in Gotham as a laboratory scientist and decided to get an apartment for the two of them not far from the town hall. A year passed and the couple decided they wanted to raise a family. Jeannie, though, had trouble getting pregnant.

"Apparently the doctor told her it's a natural thing for a woman to have trouble getting pregnant and it was likely due to genes. He advised them adoption would be their likely option if trouble persists. Jeannie was distraught about it, and for the next five years she kept her feeling underneath her skin by submerging herself in a huge depression, thus leading to a husband in emotional wreck. He clearly wasn't sure how to help Jeannie get through this huge ordeal, and so he relied on me to give him my best advice to help her out. There was one time when I suggested to him adoption would be the likely scenario to have children, and he agreed, so he told Jeannie what I suggested and she eventually agreed. A week later, Jeannie found out she was pregnant.

"She and J were elated, and prepped up for the baby's arrival later on that year. However, three months later after they found out they were expecting a child, a huge recession hit Gotham and t effected everyone including J and his family. Jeannie's work hours were cut down to twenty hours a week, and she eventually quit so she can take care of the baby. Sadly for J, he was laid off completely from his good paying job. He was determined to find another job so the family wouldn't have to live in poverty, but their luck got worse when the rent guy evicted them from their home when Jeannie and J failed to pay their rent on time — money was frugal at the time and paying the rent proved more of a problem for them. Because of this, they decided to room in with Jeannie's family since J's lived far away, and were given a few months to stay until J would find a suitable job and a new apartment.

"Life then became stressful for the two. J had trouble finding a new job and signed up for unemployment, thus making Jeannie mad when J gave up half way through her pregnancy; they would have fights in occasion debating on what would be best for them and the baby — there were talks of divorce, but that never happened. J, again, would come to me for advice, but this time I had nothing to offer him other than luck.

"While J struggled to find a job, Jeannie suffered another depression. She turned to alcohol as a sedative, drink throughout the night until she'd pass out on bed. For J he was appalled she would let herself go in such a way that would not only risk her life but the baby as well, and in the end he convinced her to stop drinking because he loved her.

"J did find a job — although I can't say it was a smart decision, and a good job. He worked with a few mobsters from Gotham and made life threatening deals with thugs and dealers I would hardly ever face in person. And here he convinced Jeannie to stop drinking — look what he has to deal with that is also just as risky as Jeannie's drinking. So anyway, he managed as a new mob dealer for one of the toughest mobsters in Gotham at the time, made good money and was lucky enough to find an apartment outside of Gotham. When he told the news to Jeannie she was delighted and wanted to move out of her parents' ranch as soon as possible.

"I was getting worried about J and his new 'job', that I felt Jeannie needed to know the truth or else her questions would be unanswered if she were to be sitting beside her husband's coffin in the near future, so I told her the truth about J as a mob dealer. She was utterly shocked, and upset when he came home to a wife in distress. She was literally screaming at him through tears, saying how he was raising an unhealthy family and that he didn't care a damn about the baby's safety. She walked out on him when he was about to plea to her that he was doing it so that they would be able to have the money to move to a new place and to start life over again. He was mad at me of course, but I told him it was for the best and so their lives wouldn't be at stake, which he understood for a fact. He went out to find Jeannie who had taken her parents car, driving through the town searching from block to block; it took him nearly two hours to find the street she was on.

"I found J after following him with my truck, and parked beside his, and stepped out to see where he was going. My heart literally sank by what I saw. The car Jeannie drove was smashed to bits.

"J was screaming through tears as he tried to call for Jeannie to see if she was okay or not; we did get a response from her, but it was a weak one when he approached the destroyed vehicle and tried to fish her out of the mess. He pulled her out and laid her out on the pavement with her hands covering her abdomen, thus making us worried if the baby was harmed in the accident. I ran over to assist J as he cried for help from any witnesses who saw the accident — nobody answered, not even the cop sitting beside a lamp post. Jeannie was struggling to survive as we tried our best to get help from a random pedestrian who had the wits to call over her husband who is an EMT driver, and ran over with his EMT duffle bag to check on Jeannie's vital stats as her progression slowly got worse. He examined her injuries and told him that her injuries were life threatening, beyond repair and that the chance of survival would be slim for Jeannie. There was nothing he could do to save Jeannie, and instead he watched J struggle to revive Jeannie from her injuries. I stood back in disbelief and knew J couldn't do anything either.

"I believe that was the start to J's madness, that even the heroes of Gotham, can't be trusted.

"Seconds later, Jeannie went limb in J's arms." He swallowed hard as though the memory was too much for him to hold. "I'll never forget that day when J finally gave up on people, a simple accident — Jeannie's sudden death and the loss of his child — pushed him over the edge. He was gone the second Jeannie died in his arms. When he got up, I no longer saw the J I used to know, the sensual look of happiness vanished from his eyes. No longer would I see the grin he'd have when Jeannie and I would make him laugh…

"J left early to tell the family about the accident, while I stayed behind to talk to the Gotham Police Department whether this was intentional for Jeannie to die in such a horrific way or if this was simply caused by human error itself. After, I went home to check on J to see if he needed my assistance, but when I walked inside the house I felt something strange as though something fishy was up, and I found J on the bathroom floor with his mouth gruesomely cut open with a knife. I ran to him, his face smothered in blood, he coughed up the blood that was oozing from his huge Glasgow smile. He had trouble responding, but eventually managed to speak through the hoarseness of his voice, tears spewing from his eyes.

"_You just need to smile and see the bright side…_ he moped softly. _She's…not…suffering…_He broke into tears right afterward.

"I called for an ambulance and they arrived in a jiffy to bring him to the hospital, I rode with them as I kept an eye on J, wondering how in so little time a man can instantly change; I couldn't devour the fact whole for it seemed so soon J would become a man full of hatred and disgust that he decided Gotham would suffer for their doings. When he arrived at the hospital he was brought in for immediate treatment — they shipped him into the emergency room to stitch up the cuts he made into his face and give him a blood transfusion, and after he was placed in immediate care by the nurses and stayed there for over a week. I made sure to stop by every day to check his progression, and apparently he was going to make a huge turn around once he was given permission to leave. On the days though I came to visit I was told he was either asleep or was getting treatment done, so I didn't want to waste his time and decided to leave for the day. I made my final visit a day before the doctors told me he would be ready to leave the hospital; when I entered into his room I felt an unusual presence — foreign to me — and sat beside his bed as I waited for him to wake up. He did about a few minutes later and I told him the good news, but to him it wasn't that pleasant.

"_What's the point when there's nothing to come home to?_ He told me, _There's no meaning to life now that Jeannie is gone._

"_J,_ I said, _things will get better._

"_No, they won't. Just yesterday I had Jonny Bang-Bang walk in to inform me-_

"_Jonny Bang-Bang?_ I asked, confused. _It was Jonny you worked with?_

"He nodded, and said, _Jonny's kicking me off the team. Apparently, my absence has pissed him off and doesn't want to end up having a freak work with him._

"I rolled my eyes. _You know how mobsters are. They want to have a 'good image.'_

"_Apparently, that's how the whole _world_ thinks. People think their life is perfect, having the perfect good looking wife, the perfect kids, perfect job…well, the truth is _nothing_ in this world is perfect. Look at me for Christ's sake. Look where the hell I am just because I thought my world was perfect. _ He looked up at the ceiling when he felt a tear rolling out from his eye; he inhaled deeply, and a frown appeared. _Well, I'm about to change that._

"_What in blaspheme are you going to do?_

"_If my world can't be perfect __—__ then nobody's can. They are going to suffer what I went through just when I was trying to have a normal life for once. _ He looked back at me, with an eyebrow arched. _And you're in it with me._

"_There is no way in hell I am going to cause havoc for this city._

"_You are going to hack into the hospital's computer system and erase my files _permanently_ from the system __—__ if as though I never existed._

"_That's impossible._

"_It won't be if you do the job right._ He rose in his bed and leaned over to me. _Gotham City College has some students majoring in Criminal Justice and Electronics about hacking into computers and such __—__ there's a kid Jonny Bang-Bang knows named Jacob whose good with that stuff. Have him help you and get me out of this God forsaken hospital._

"And so, that is exactly what I did if I wanted to keep myself under his radar from changing his mind if I was considered useful or not. He gave me Jacob's number and I called him to offer him a deal with working with J and I, and soon I come to find out about an hour later he snuck into one of the doctor's offices and erase J's files completely from the server, and waited outside for us beside my truck. I tried whatever I can to convince one of the nurses that J look good enough to leave, but she wasn't convinced.

"After I informed J about our new problem, he harshly threw off the sheets and threw his legs over the side to stand up. _Close the side curtains near the door._ He pointed out, and I turned around and took a hold of the turquoise curtain. J searched the room out and opened a drawer from across the room and produced a set of bed sheets, tying the ends up to make a handmade rope. _It's two floors down to the ground,_ he said.

"I took the rope and tied it up to the bed just as J opened the window and was about to step out. I checked to make sure the rope was nicely secure, and when I did I gave him a hand signal to go and he crawled down the rope without hassle with Jacob waiting below to help him. I didn't want to deal with the nurse as to why I had closed the curtain, so I crawled down the rope as well and landed safely on the pavement; Jacob started the truck in no time and I jumped in with J. J, who was still in his hospital gown, looked a bit uncomfortable as he tried to fix himself.

"_Did you bring anything for me to wear, Andrew?_

"I shook my head. _Sorry, dude._

"_I did._ Jacob replied. _It's in my duffle bag behind the seat. Used to belong to Jonny._

"J reached over for the duffle bag and unzipped it, pulling out a set of purple striped pants and a blue honeycomb shirt. He eyed it as though it didn't appeal to his taste. _Did Jonny decide to become a _clown_ or something?_ He joked.

"_It used to be one of his old suits and gave it to me __—__ I figured you'd look good in purple._

"He shrugged. _Good enough. _And he tugged on the pants from underneath his hospital gown. I don't know what Jacob was thinking, but from the looks of it J appeared to have taken a liking to the color and the details of his new pants, so goes for the button up shirt he slid on afterward. _I guess Jonny has a good taste in style._ He laughed, and fixed the collar of his shirt.

"Jonny sped up on the highway as we left the city boundary._ Where shall we settle?_

"J turned to him after he tossed the duffle bag behind him. _I would like to stop at an old place before we settle anywhere._

"About minutes later we approached the ranch. I wondered why he wanted to come here, but I thought about it some more and figured he needed to get some stuff before he would leave his past life. I got out with him and walked up the porch as he entered inside without looking back. I waited for him on the porch for what felt like hours — Jacob was getting impatient in the truck and tooted the horn twice to hurry up J. Finally, J stepped out with stuff in his hands and shoved them into his pocket.

"_Okay_, he said, _let's go._

"Just as we began to walk away, I heard a loud explosion coming from the building and it made me tremble on my own feet from shock when I spun on the balls of my heels to see what happened. The building was engulfed in flames. He surely wanted to put the past behind him from what it looked like. And through the crackling of the wood being burnt, I heard the cackle of a man…a man I no longer knew of as _Jack Napier_…he was none other than a diseased man with a cold heart, and that no one would be able to make him think the same way again…"

**:: :: ::**

At the end, he finally slowed down his story, ending at such a huge climax to the story I wanted to know what happened afterward. He sighed, breathing softly to catch his breath after speaking for so long.

"Jack Napier?" I mumbled, astonished to know for a fact the name I dreamt of was accurate to what Andrew had said.

He nodded when I figured out his name. "I figured since you needed to know the truth, that you needed to know who he really is as a human being than a monster."

"Do you think Jeannie killed herself intentionally?"

"I honestly don't know — she wouldn't do such a thing for what I've known when they were married. She loved him a lot even if he did have a stupid job in the end."

"What if she did mean to kill herself?"

"I would suppose her depression would have been one sign…"

I mused for a second about _Jack_. "Then maybe he doesn't know that. Maybe it wasn't Gotham's fault but her fault."

"I see your point," he said. "But why would she kill herself when she knew she was pregnant?"

Again, I went back into pondering about the possibilities about Jeannie wanting to kill herself — even if she was pregnant and was expecting soon. "What if she _wasn't_?"

Andrew's eyes broadened at the thought. "We would have known that before she died."

"The likelihood of having a miscarriage isn't that small for women who've had trouble getting pregnant in the first place. Probably she had a miscarriage but didn't want to tell Jack."

"It's hard to believe Jeannie would end her life that way." He shook his head in doubt.

I scrutinized at him. "Not from what he told me."

Andrew looked at me as though he wasn't aware of something.

"I asked him once if Jeannie had ever betrayed him for anything wrong doing; he said he betrayed her once — probably when he lied to her about getting a decent job. I would think Jeannie betrayed him as well — that having a miscarriage without telling him and saying everything is fine. Lying to your life partner is basically like betraying them for good."

"So, it was intentional for Jeannie to betray him by lying about the pregnancy…" He mumbled. "Do you think her _guilt_ is the reason why she's dead?"

I couldn't think otherwise, it _had_ to be true. Jeannie loved him too much, so why would she commit suicide? I looked down for a moment, with my mouth hung open when I realized he was right.

"I think it is…"

And then all I could hear was the sound of an explosion piercing through the wind.

* * *

I LOVE INCEPTION!

Joker: More than me?

Yes, more than you.

Joker: *whips out gun and points it at Catie's head* You've got five seconds to change your mind…

Okay, yes, I love you too.

Joker: *grins and puts gun back in jacket* Much better.

But still, go see INCEPTION. It is mind blowing.

Joker: *whips out gun again* I thought I was mind blowing?

Jeez *sigh*

So, for your curiosity, I have an idea for another Batman fiction from a dream I had about a year ago, and lately I have been thinking about conducting it into a fan fiction for the fun of it. (The dream had me and a friend in it. I can tell you the whole dream if you ask.) If you think it's a good idea, then give me a shout out and I'll start planning it out!

REVIEW!


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